Blasphemy
by xRainyDaysxx
Summary: Ellie Blackwell is six-years-old when she adopts the Winchester family name from a night of twisted fate. She spends her youth in a 1967 Chevy Impala, cheap motel rooms, and broken towns where any friends she makes do not matter. However, when the father figure in her life goes missing, Ellie is forced to finally face all of the monsters the Winchesters had been chasing all along.
1. Chapter 1: The Night Nobody Talks About

**Recently, I have been very invested in Supernatural, thus, resulting in the birth of this story in the wee hours of the morning when I should have been sleeping. Considering the length of this TV show, I cannot say with the utmost confidence that this fanfic will ever be truly completed. I will come back to it from time to time and drop a new chapter, but for the most part it will remain uncomplete. Writing this is more therapeutic to me than anything, such as watching Supernatural has been.**

 **Besides, nothing really ever ends, right?**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural, nor do I take any** **credit or profit from any of the ideas previously existing in the universe. The creative concept behind Supernatural belongs to its rightful owner. The only aspect I take ownership of is my original character.**

* * *

Chapter 1: The Night Nobody Talks About

 _November 14, 2002_

 _Allentown, Pennsylvania_

Ellie Winchester wasn't a Winchester, at least if one were to consult the blood circulating throughout her veins. For the first six years of her life she had wrote Ellie Blackwell on her school papers – sometimes forgetting the date in its entirety – but no one talks about that anymore. No one mentions the night she erased her last name with legal documents as her house glowed bright like the sun, only it was nighttime and everything felt upside down. Her parents and little brother were pressed against the ceiling of their respective bedrooms, gutted like pigs; and John Winchester was too late.

The attack was completely random, and strayed away from the usual pattern of the demon with honey eyes that John had been relentlessly pursuing for years piled upon years. Ellie's father was a former hunter and personal friend of John Winchester, and the pair were working a case in Ellie's hometown of Allentown, Pennsylvania. There was a vengeful spirit ripping out its victim's organs and stashing them in obscure places, like some kind of twisted up Easter egg hunt. It was a simple salt and burn, but, nonetheless, left the two hunters carrying images in their minds that would later flash through their dreams like lightning.

Azazel only committed the crime he did to get a jab at John Winchester because it was awfully irritating for him to have to cover up his tracks every time he had a little fun. The demon liked to be messy and he'd decorate the world in red if he could, but instead he had to go through some kind of ridiculous clean-up routine, or else he'd have someone he considered a "low-grade hunter" knocking at his door by the next sunrise. The son of a bitch was persistent, he'd give him that. All in all, Azazel found enjoyment in making some pigs squeal while he slit their throats, and nothing could quite beat witnessing the spiritual anguish work across John Winchester's face as the hunter watched it all go down in flames, even if Azazel did let a scrawny little kid get away.

John's heart was almost as heavy as the journal containing everything he was aware that the universe could produce – which he kept stuffed deep inside his jacket pocket – and while he sat in the back of an ambulance with a six-year-old Ellie Blackwell, he did not miss the way she was watching her house while firefighters were desperately trying to extinguish the blaze. A reflection of flames settled in her speckled, brown eyes and the remaining Blackwell reeked of cheap cigarettes; the ends of her shoulder-length hair were singed and strands crumpled. John Winchester noticed how the little girl disregarded the paramedics before her as they were checking her body for any injury. Ellie treated them like ghosts as her features turned stony and the tears on her cheeks began to dry up. John used his voice in substitution of Ellie's to tell people what he knew – yeah, he lied a little here and there, but what hunter doesn't? – and he found it progressively difficult to do so since he didn't even know the simple variables, such as what Ellie's favorite color was.

So, John Winchester knew what he had to do because he could not find it within himself to see the kid be swept away to an orphanage, or dropped off with some distant relatives she never knew existed.

Some phone calls were made, fake ID's flashed where they were needed, and by the end of the month Ellie Blackwell became Ellie Winchester.


	2. Chapter 2: Not-so-Happy Halloween

Chapter 2: Not-so-Happy Halloween

 _October 31, 2005_

 _Palo Alto, California_

It is cold and raining in California, and Ellie Winchester doesn't really know why. She had been brushing up on the state through the brochures she snagged at the last gas station stop. The pictures depicted California as sunny, hot, and containing people who were always smiling for some reason – Ellie guessed she would be too if she could be a movie star in Hollywood – and the girl was finally beginning to understand why Sam ditched Dad, Dean, and her for the place. But when Dean pulled up to Sam's apartment in the middle of the night, the air flow was being mean and bitter towards Ellie, and for some reason it had begun to drizzle. She missed the warm rumble of the Impala the second Dean pulled the key out of the ignition, and then she missed her eldest brother when he pushed his body into the building's unknown darkness – it's dark everywhere, but at least outside and the car is known darkness – after he had admonished Ellie to stay put because he'd be right back. She hopes he hurries up because the streetlight above flickers every twelve seconds – she counted – and the soft patter of raindrops against the vehicle Dean refers to as Baby are a weak distraction.

Ellie swings her legs back and forth on the passenger seat, the tips of her sneakers barely reaching the floor mat. It's Halloween night and she wanted to go out, but Dean said not this year because they have work to do, as always. Besides, once when her brown eyes caught sight of some of the costumes that she had actually seen in real life, Ellie decided that she didn't really want to go trick-or-treating anyway.

Two years have passed since Sam left for college, and Ellie has not seen or heard from her makeshift brother since the uproar his departure created. Ellie spent over a year with the three Winchesters after John had taken her in, becoming her legal guardian and new father figure. His sons, therefore, acquired the role as older brothers, although they remained reluctant and distant for at least the first month or so. John informed Ellie that the two would come around, and when they did, Ellie, who was seven-years-old at the time, gravitated more towards the younger of the two, Sam. Sam Winchester helped Ellie with homework, colored with the girl because they both liked to draw, and watched The Little Mermaid until he practically knew the whole transcript. So when he disappeared and never called, or even as much wrote, Ellie did feel a little hurt.

Ellie is closer with Dean now because she realized his music wasn't all that bad, even if the lyrics don't make sense sometimes, and he sneaks her sweets on occasion. Things were beginning to level out without Sam, until Dad didn't come home from a hunt, and everything got dark again. Ellie doesn't know what she is going to say to Sam when Dean brings him out into the cold air, and the thought of the family reunion causes her leg movement to still, and she grips the seatbelt that is securely fastened across her chest.

The girl listens to the rain, uses a finger to follow the race of two raindrops on the glass of Baby's window. The left raindrop wins, if she would've bet she would have lost. It's really late, she thinks; like 2 AM or something. Ellie should be asleep because there are a lot of stars in the sky, but she's not tired enough. The streetlight overhead blinks off, on, and then stays dead. She misses Dean again.

The clouds decide to stop crying, leaving tears on Baby's frame, and Ellie twitches when she hears the sound of the door bang open. The thud of boots on hard concrete follows; there's a voice, distant, but still there. She can't really hear it, and her heartrate picks up for no particular reason because the thoughts in her head aren't real. Everything is coming closer, and the Impala is parked in a way so she can't quite see what is going on, but she doesn't turn because sometimes things are less scary that way.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Dean's voice cuts through the static tension and Ellie can breathe again. "Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life?" Ellie picks up on a different voice than her brother's in response to the question. The voice is recognizable, but carries a different tone. It says that the life they're living is not normal, just safe. And somehow Ellie is seven-years-old again and learning her multiplication table because _"you gotta learn it, bug"_ , and she thinks she wants to be safe when she reaches back to unbuckle her seatbelt.

Ellie pops Baby's door open and slides out of the leather that with all of the smells combined, give off an aroma of what she guesses a person's living soul would smell like if there was such a scent. Dean, Sam, and Ellie were all raised within the Impala's interior, parts of them remaining within. Static runs up Ellie's legs when she makes a touchdown on wet pavement, and she wiggles her toes to bring feeling back into the limbs. The passenger side door closes, bouncing off of the brick buildings surrounding, and the two Winchester brothers angle their bodies to look at the young girl.

 _Sam._ Sam Winchester appears to Ellie like something she swears she read in a book once but cannot remember – _familiar._ Sometimes, Ellie reads words backwards; though, and that's okay because if people can walk backwards and think backwards, why not live backwards? Sam is backwards, and different, and has longer hair, and less tired eyes, and a changed voice. Ellie almost wishes to hug him, but Sam left and got all bent out of the shape she used to view him as, and when everything is backwards hugging is equivalent to pushing someone away.

Sam watches the girl for a moment longer before she sees him swallow, shifting with the beat of his heart, _"Dean, she's nine-years-old – she – Ellie shouldn't be sitting up front . . ."_ His voice is soft on Ellie's ears and doesn't sound anything at all like being scolded. It floats away, such as his breath under the moonlight in this not-how-California-was-supposed-to-be temperature. "Her feet can't even touch the floor – "

"How would you even know," Dean interrupts Sam's gentle train of thought. It goes as quiet as it should be at two in the morning. Ellie blinks – she does all the time but she remembers this one – and she thinks it might start raining so there at least can be _something,_ but it doesn't, and then she's trying to figure out why Sam never said 'hi'. She brushes her hand through the raindrops covering the Impala like spots, and it is merely water, but it feels as if it is _different_ water; smells like metal.

"I got taller, Sammy." Ellie says, absentminded yet sure, as the child lets a raindrop roll down the length of her index finger. Besides, didn't Sam go away so that Ellie could sit shotgun while Dean drove? So that he could smile and become a movie star in gloomy California?

Dean asks why Sam ran away in the first place. Ellie is sure he knows the answer; though, but it's just an adult thing, ask questions you know the answer to.

Sam answers as if no argument occurred when he got caught trying to sneak out – but like a kind of sneaking out you don't come back from – in Wisconsin beyond the purple walls of a motel room, "I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone." _Dad._ Dad is the reason Dean took Ellie cross country to have some sucky family reunion in an alley, smashed between a cold front and the aftermath of a slight drizzle. "And that's what I'm doin'."

Dean pulls a face Ellie pinpoints as him listening to Sam, but overall not quite caring. There are bigger problems. "Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now, if he's not dead already. I can feel it."

It's all off, more so than usual. Ellie steps closer to Sam, yanking the sleeves of her jacket over the palms of her hands while her foot toes in a puddle. "He ran away, too; or something . . ."

Dean grips Ellie's shoulder to address the two of them as a unit. He squeezes some and Ellie focuses on feeling it. She keeps her head down at the puddle by her feet, at the reflection she can't see because it's too dark and the streetlight burnt out. "Listen, Sam, El and I . . . we can't do this alone."

Ellie raises her head to search for a reaction from the older brother that her eyes have not flicked over in two years.

He's shaking his head. "Yes, you can."

Dean sighs and Ellie realizes his hand slipped off her shoulder. "Yeah," he admits. "Well, we don't want to." Dean is putting words in Ellie's mouth, which she guesses is okay because he claims that what he says goes due to his age merit. Just like she guesses Sam left for a legitimate reason besides to only get away. Like she guesses John Winchester is a father to her, even if he's absent more often than not, because she can't remember the sound of her own father's voice besides a blurry recording in backwards world.

It's then that Sam asks what Dad was hunting, and the world "hello" leaves his lips, directed towards nine-year-old Ellie, who acts more like a teenager than anything at all.

* * *

The arsenal nestled under the bottom compartment in the Impala's trunk is no surprise, at least in the universe of hunters. If anything, it is more of a code of conduct. The three Winchesters crowd around the open trunk while Dean rifles through its contents; his hands wade through various types of weaponry and bags of salt like they are household items. Ellie cranes her head to look up at the velvet sky, the action making her feel light and tired. She blows into the air, catching more oxygen on the next inhale.

"So, when Dad left, why didn't you guys go with him?" Sam asks and Ellie stops moving around in the sleepy cold. His voice is freshly resurrected in her brain and she wants nothing more than to weave herself into the octaves. She knows that cannot happen; though, because this is just one case, _one case out of the hundreds,_ and come some morning Sam's voice will be lost to the wind again. And for Ellie, it will return to watching the back of John's pickup for hours on the road, hushed whispers when Dean and John believe she is asleep, papers pinned to the walls – all because a demon with yellow eyes ruined everything with a thought.

It's only when Dean replies does Ellie recall what the question was in the first place. "We were doing other things, working a gig . . ." Ellie remembers that they were down in Louisiana when John got a call about some other case. He said that it was important, that he had to go. He told Dean and Ellie to finish up what was started – was very adamant about the whole situation – and he would return eventually. But John never did.

Ellie tunes into her oldest brother's voice once more, it's spaced out from him searching through all the stuff in the trunk, " . . . this voodoo thing down in New Orleans – _Ellie, did you move the files?"_

The girl walks forward because her body was drifting further away from the two than she liked. She shakes her head, but once she realizes Dean isn't looking at her, she says, "No."

She doesn't like to read stuff like that. Besides, the words can get all scrambled at times and it hurts.

Sam looks amused at this point and Ellie doesn't know why. He leans on the car. "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourselves?"

Dean pauses. "I'm twenty-six, dude." He jerks his head Ellie's way. "She's got Baby to keep her safe. We're fine."

The expression plastered across Sam's face remains the same, entitlement radiating from his skin. The age gap between the two boys is four years, and Ellie cannot seem to comprehend why Sam is talking older, standing older, acting older – Things change, people morph into other beings, but birthdays? _Birthdays don't._

Dean finds the case file tucked under a bag of something that Ellie thought she already saw him look under. He lifts it up, makes some kind of _"ahh",_ singing noise. Sam rolls his eyes, Ellie smiles. Dean starts breaking the case down for Sam, but Ellie has heard it all before. Jericho, California, two lane road, slab of concrete – a guy disappeared, police found his car, no trace of the victim, though.

Instead of listening, Ellie eyes the manila folder in Dean's hands. She thinks about how the material is rough and loves giving paper cuts; exhibit A being the little line on her left pinkie finger that she winced at when hand sanitizer seeped into it earlier that day. The girl also hates the word: _manila._ It sounds alien; something she just made up in her own head to compensate for all of the backwards sentences in books, like an imaginary friend she had at one time.

The sound of Sam speaking captures Ellie and puts her back into the conversation. "So, maybe he was kidnapped," Sam shrugs, gripping one of the many papers in the file.

"That's what we thought, too," Dean hands him another paper, "until we dug a little deeper. Here's another one in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92 . . . ten of them over the past twenty years." With each year, Dean presses another paper down into Sam's hands until he has a pile. All different people with different lives, and personalities, and likes, and dislikes – but still the same case, nonetheless. Ellie steps up to the Impala, turning around to lean into the steady surface. The car is still damp from rain, but she doesn't mind getting her jacket wet. Her hands bury themselves deep into pockets.

Dean goes on about the eerie disappearances, packing up as he goes along so he doesn't leave anything behind in the back alley of some apartment complex positioned in the heart of Palo Alto, California. Ellie closes her eyes and hangs her head, still following his voice. He talks about how it started happening more and more, Dad left to go check it out, and then he vanished, too. After that – as if it isn't already bad enough – Dean received a voicemail yesterday, which was enough for him to yank a sleepy and very grumpy nine-year-old girl out of bed and book it to California.

He presses play on the recording. _"Dean . . . something is . . . starting to happen. I think it's serious. I need to try to figure out what's going on. It may be . . . Be very careful, Dean. Keep Ellie close. We're all in danger."_

Ellie breathes roughly. Sam states, evenly, "You know, there's EVP on that,"

"Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like ridin' a bike, isn't it?"

About a year ago, a case ran overtime and they stayed in a nice neighborhood in Washington for two months. Everyday Ellie rode bikes with a messy-haired kid named Dustin. Dean knew about it and would keep an eye on the two from the window. The both of them wouldn't talk about home, but rather hobbies or what good shows were on television. And just when Ellie started to gain hope that perhaps things would level out and they could stay, John showed up, said to pack their bags, and yelled at Ellie to return the bike to the rack she stole it from weeks prior. She didn't get to say goodbye because they left in the middle of the night, but Dustin might have saw through the slits in his blinds because he was a light sleeper.

The cleaned up version of the voicemail is played:

 _"I can never go home."_

The voice is barely there, like fog; visible yet untouchable.

Ellie opens her eyes when the trunk shuts. Dean motions for her to scoot over and he leans on the Impala next to her. The car sinks into his weight in a comforting manner. "You know, in almost two years, I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." It's true, Ellie knows, but it was more of a "don't-bother-Sammy-he-left-us-and-doesn't-care-anymore" kind of deal. It was walking on thin ice, they were scared of what could happen if they did come knocking at his door after the nasty retreat to Stanford, so they didn't. Until now, until Halloween of 2005, and Ellie is still afraid, so she doesn't say anything unless asked to.

She hears Sam sigh, visible and airy. He claims that he will help them find Dad. Ellie curls her mouth into a smile, she feels less alone; no one observes this action.

"But I have to get back first thing Monday," bargains Sam. Ellie shifts, palms braced flat against the sticky Impala. That's it. That's the day she will lose him. "Just wait here."

"What's first thing Monday?" asks Dean when Sam turns to head back inside his apartment Ellie never saw.

"I have an interview."

"What – a job interview? _Skip it."_

"It's a law school interview," Sam corrects, matter-of-factly, "and it's my whole future on a plate."

Dean bumps Ellie, mouths, _"Law school . . ."_

Sam huffs. "So we got a deal or not?"

Ellie doesn't think that she should have to bargain to be able to spend time with her brother, nor does she particularly like the sound of hearing about the future: law school . . . but still Sammy-less.


	3. Chapter 3: California Dreaming

Chapter 3: California Dreaming

 _October 31, 2005_

 _Palo Alto, California_

The deal with Sam is on, and Ellie and Dean hold their positions while he evaporates into his apartment complex like the raindrops on Baby's hood. Even after he is gone, Ellie swears she can still sees his elongated, gray shadow on the pavement, hear the specific octave of his voice, and smell the completely _Sam_ aroma his presence carries. The young girl shakes it off because sometimes she swears she sees Sam in the trees while they're out on the road, or catches a faint rumble of him in a crowded diner; but it is never actually her brother. When she mentioned it to John he said it was part of missing people, after they're gone, or something; he has a long list of them, apparently.

Yet Sam was never really lost, just lost exclusively when it came to the Winchesters, and Ellie has been secretly wanting to find him for the past two years. She leans back on the Impala, stretching out her legs and crossing her arms. She notices Dean gaze remains in the direction Sammy went; he's trying to gather up the pieces of their brother as well.

Dean sniffles, sliding his hands into his coat pockets and straightening out his arms. "Sammy has a girlfriend in there," he breaks the eerie silence that is present for the early morning – yet still considered the late night – of an estimated 2 AM. "Can you believe that?" He chuckles, dryly; sniffles some more in its aftermath. It's cold out, always seems to be on Halloween, and Ellie does not really see the point in dressing up if you're just going to be freezing and unhappy the whole time. Then again, she knows monsters are _real_ , even if she has seen only a handful of them because she always is forced to stay beyond a closed door in a motel room, or the car, or any other place where she will not even be near what is happening, so everyone can pretend it never existed in the first place. But the girl knows, _she knows._ Ellie figures being cold and sad is an accurate representation of what goes bump in the night.

When Ellie doesn't have much of a reaction to her older brother's comment, she feels him nudge her, "Hey, kiddo . . . you okay?" The nine-year-old stares up at a fake skeleton hanging from a fire escape and the illumination of orange lights that are draped across the railing of one of the apartment balcony's. There is a lot she wants to say about Sam, like how she hopes California actually did make him happy, and hopes his girlfriend is nice, and hopes that he sleeps at night because she has been having trouble since he left. Ellie struggles with speaking; though, because suddenly she feels really tired and might fall over from the intensity of it. This feeling happens on occasion, such as reading words backwards, and she chalks it up as being who she is.

 _"Tired."_ she manages to get out in a harsh breath, faintly aware of Dean removing an arm from his jacket pocket to coil around her shoulders, and pull her in so she doesn't fall over. Ellie leans on her brother, resting her head on his shoulder, and slowly breathes in the familiar leather, fresh soil, sour alcohol, grease but the warm-food kind, and any other fragrances that come rolled up to make Dean Winchester.

He taps his fingers to the beat of whatever song is running through his head on Ellie's arm, she knows it's how he stays alert and awake. "It's okay, we've been up for a while. Sam'll be back soon and then we can go."

Ellie grunts to acknowledge Dean's words, she closes her eyes. Sam is only packing for a few days trip and one hunt. He's coming back this time, and they'll find Dad, and then things can be good again. They will be.

But then there's Monday, and law school, and Sam's girlfriend . . .

The nine-year-old shifts, gripping Dean for support, "He's just gonna leave again, De."

Dean's finger movements on the surface of her jacket stop. He sighs, long and hard; a thinking sigh. "If he does, he does; nothing we can really do to stop him." Ellie feels everything rush back into her head once Dean moves her and sets her spine straight again. She becomes aware that her fingers have curled themselves around the frame of the Impala. Her legs swing slowly, bumping against one of the front tires. The young girl's eyes remain closed, but it's the same as before: _dark and unknown._ "Hey, El; can you look at me, _please."_

The words are soft for the speaker, like the tired-dizzy-light way the inside of Ellie's head feels because she's been awake for too long. She feels like she doesn't have much of a choice, so she enters the Halloween world again, and the brown of her eyes meet the green waves of her oldest brother.

"Even if Sam does decide to live some friggin' apple-pie life where the sun is always shining, it doesn't change what we're doing." Traveling with Dad, making the monsters go away, being strangers' heroes – "Okay? We've put on a brave-face before, we can do it again."

Ellie cannot see how someone could withstand being happy _all of the time._ She thinks they'd at least get sad sometimes, or mad, or scared. Maybe they'll just absorb so much of the sun they'll explode. That sounds gross. "Okay." Her head bobs, understanding. She remembers that brochures. "It was raining before, but the sun was in those pictures you gave me. Dean, I – I think I like the rain."

Dean brushes back the light brown – borderline blonde – hair lingering in Ellie's eyes. "You and me both."

"The sun gets in your eyes,"

"Yeah, honey."

Ellie's bangs are thick and creeping past her eyebrows; they are due for a good trim. Lately, she has been having to push them back constantly so she can see the details of the things she takes comfort in. Even if monsters are real, the child still thinks the world is pretty, and she enjoys traveling to see it. She has been wanting to get her hair cut but she hasn't mentioned it to Dean; he just wants to find Dad, and so does Ellie.

Ellie thinks her brother is done with whatever talking there needs to be so the darkness of the back alley they're wading in can be a good memory in her brain. She's about to hop down off of Baby's hood to go lie down in the back seat while they wait for Sam, but Dean continues, "We'll find Dad, with or without Sam; _I'm not going anywhere."_

Ellie nods. "I know." And of course she does. Dean and Dad are hunters, superheroes, even – that's what Dean told her, at least – and they're always fine, always come back, eventually. They get rid of the evil and make people happy, and if she were not so afraid, maybe she could do what they do some day.

She holds up her fist, the last shred of reassurance. "You promise?"

Dean smiles, pressing his fist into Ellie's. "I promise."

The apartment building's door whines open, then, and Sam walks out into the dark to join his siblings.

* * *

 _November 1, 2005_

 _Just outside of Jericho, California_

The Winchesters drive through the night to get to where they need to be by early morning. Ellie ends up dozing off in the backseat of Baby somewhere between Sam telling Dean about his newly founded "domesticated life" and the murmurs of Led Zeppelin through the car's speaker. Lying down during late night driving always seems to have the same outcome for the girl: being rocked to sleep by the slight bumps and turns in the road, the only light coming from passing streetlights and other car's headlights.

When she woke up, Sam was staring out of his window at some local, early morning joggers, and Dean was drumming on the steering wheel out of nervous energy and the need for another cup of coffee. She assumed Sam grabbed a couple of hours of sleep here and there, but Dean was still yesterday's Dean because he refuses to let anyone drive Baby other than himself. He didn't sleep at all, but Ellie is not entirely sure if adults have to; she's seen Dean chase down ghosts without any shut eye too many times to count. Superheroes don't need sleep.

Ellie sits up when they pull into a run-down-yet-still-functional gas station. Her hair is sticking out in odd angles, the right side of the girl's face is red and has a clear imprint of the Impala's leather seat. She wipes her wet mouth with her sleeve and rolls her eyes when she realizes Dean is eyeing her through the rearview mirror, smirking, "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Why don't you do us all a favor and run a brush through your hair?"

Ellie pushes her eldest brother's shoulder while she leans down to unzip her bag. "I've been up for hours," she grumbles. Sam tells Ellie good morning as well and from her crouched position, she grins at one of the people that is finally no longer labeled missing.

Dean tilts the rearview mirror to get a better view of his sister. "Yeah? And I've been up for even longer and my hair still doesn't look like – " He pauses while Ellie straightens, hair brush in hand. Dean draws an air, make-believe circle in the outline of her face, _"that."_

Taking the purple hair brush, Ellie bops Dean on the head with it. "Shuttup, jerk." She purposely slurs her words together because she knows Dean hates when she tells him to shut up; it's "back-talking", or whatever. She does not see how it could be that unless she repeats the same phrase her brother said back to him. Anyways, he had it coming to him.

"Ow!" Dean grabs at his hair, aiming for the brush but missing. "You brat!" he yells, half-heartedly, before swiveling around to look back at the nine-year-old who is now glued to the window, acting like the interaction never happened. Ellie suspects that he is about to say something, but he doesn't once Sam states that they're in public, and this place is already weird enough.

Ellie is working a knot out of her shoulder-length hair when Dean pushes his car door open, grumbling about how they've been pushing _E_ for the past hour, and to not get a bunch of hair in Baby's backseat.

* * *

"Does Dean have any music from this century?" Sam's question causes Ellie to look up from her notepad that she doodles in on occasion. She climbed up into the front bench seat once Dean went inside to pay for gas and find whatever kind of breakfast that he possibly could at a rural gas station in California. Her feet are up on the dash, notepad braced on her knees, and she knows that her oldest brother would freak if he saw, but she did take her shoes off. Besides, Sammy didn't yell at her; he has been engrossed in the cassette tapes he found stored in the glove box eight minutes prior. Ellie watches him huff and start at the beginning again, his long legs spilling out of the open passenger door of the vehicle while he rifles through the tapes for about the third time.

She clicks her pen that she took from the last diner Dean and her were in. "Uh, I don't know . . ." She wants to talk about Stanford, about his girlfriend, about a lot of things since it is just the two of them for the first time in two years, but she is not sure how. Ellie is afraid Sam might disappear right in front of her eyes; one wrong move – it could happen.

Sam leaves the cassettes alone for a minute, lets them rest. Ellie watches him notice the blue lines on her paper. "Whatcha drawing there?"

She angles the paper better so he can see it, the drawing looks like a bunch of squiggles. "Hair." He tilts his head, not judging, but interested. "It helps sometimes, I like drawing hair and eyes."

"What does it help with?" asks Sam, turning his body more towards his younger sister. Outside of the 1967 Impala a power tool starts up from someone working on their car about twenty yards away, the bell on the gas station's front door chimes loudly, either from someone entering or exiting the building. Ellie clicks the end of her pen on her chin, thinking. She closes her notebook and drops her feet clad in black socks from Baby's dash. Shoving her bangs aside, Ellie crosses her legs and finally faces Sam.

"Everything, I – I think, maybe – " she stutters, wiping her eyes when nothing is there because when she is nervous her hands get fidgety. She thumbs the closed notebook pages and they make a _whooshing/thumping_ sound as she filters through. "I see it. It's better to be _away."_

Sam swallows, stiffening and puffing his chest out. "Ellie – "

 _"You could have told me."_ And he could have, and, yeah, she probably would have been mad for a little, but not forever. Now the temporary madness has stretched to a two year madness, and it had the potential to be forever if Sam had not gotten in the car. Ellie balls her hands into fists because college can have Sam for all she cares, as long as she gets him back, as long as he tells her _why._

But he didn't.

"Hey!" someone shouts. Moving around, the both of them search for the owner of the voice because something in their brains claims that they know who it belongs to without having to think about it. _Dean._ "You want breakfast?" He holds up two bottles of different kinds of soda and a bag of chips. Ellie leans over Sam and the cassette tapes to see better before nodding at Dean, who smiles.

Sam scrunches his face up like a sponge, wrinkling his nose in once he sees what Dean bought. "No, thanks." He goes back to poking through the small cassette tape collection, and Ellie almost face plants while trying to climb into the backseat without using any doors, her socks easily slipping on the leather. Sam glances over his shoulder at her when she yanks her leg around, trying to get sneakers back on her feet – stupid high tops – and he has the same look on his face that he gave Dean. If he is trying to be a sponge, or whatever, the only stuff Ellie can think of him possibly absorbing are oxygen and germs; however, she won't mention the last part since Sam is some kind of health-freak. These variables come free, anyways, so she doesn't see the point in the extra face work.

"So, how'd you pay for that stuff?" Sam asks as Ellie is in the middle of making a loop in one of her shoelaces to tie them. She thinks he may be talking to her at first, but when her head flicks up, she sees Sam angled out of his open car door and faced towards Dean, who is fiddling with the gas nozzle he left in Baby while he shopped. Sighing, she goes back to tying her shoes, restarting the knot since she lost her place. "You and Dad still running credit card scams?"

Finishing with her shoes, Ellie leans back into her seat, crossing her arms and resting her head on a part of the Impala's interior the three of them carved their initials into forever ago. She blows a piece of hair out of her face. Ellie is left in the dark a lot with the whole money situation, but it seems boring and a fairly simple concept overall. When Dean explained it he said that they borrow money from people who don't need it, but they can give it back if they really want to. She doesn't see a problem with it, so why does Sam?

 _"Yeah._ Well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career." remarks Dean, placing the nozzle back into the gas pump. "Besides, all we do is apply; it's not our fault they send us the cards." Ellie cannot recall ever really seeing her brothers or Dad get paid after a hunt for saving people. She also never really thought about where the money came from, it was just _there;_ not a whole lot, but enough to get by on. One night during a case in North Carolina, Dean came home with a broken nose, face gushing blood into his hands, and ugly, angry purple bruises under his eye. He eased Ellie's worries by telling her that he slipped and fell; however, she figured out that he lied when she sort-of-eavesdropped while John was patching her brother up, mumbling about how stupid he was for "getting caught hustling" – whatever that means. It sounded like a dance move.

Sam swings the rest of his body back into his seat, pulling the passenger side door closed while Dean enters the car, sinking into the Impala's leather. The two of them are talking about who they are borrowing money from this time, but Ellie is only half listening. She thinks she hears them say something about a Bert and Hector – can't be sure – but just then a rusted and faded green truck with a squealing engine pulls up to the gas pump adjacent to them. An older man gets out and the Chocolate Labrador in the bed of the truck instantly perks up, wagging her tail lazily. Ellie smiles at the pair. She's always wanted a dog, but they move around too much and one of Dean's rules is no dogs in the car, so it wouldn't really work out.

"El, here," Ellie rips her eyes away from the outside world that never quite stops moving when she feels a nudge on her leg. "Since you missed out last night on the whole candy frenzy, I got you something." Dean holds out a bag of Swedish Fish – her favorite – and a one liter bottle of Sprite.

Ellie takes the candy and drink from her brother, grinning wide as she sloshes the clear liquid in the green bottle around. Outside the dog barks. "Thanks, Dean."

"Yeah, don't mention it . . ." He crinkles a bag sitting up front, stating he also bought chips, before he snaps his fingers back at Ellie. _"Oh,_ and I didn't forget about your orange juice; the ones in there were looking like they were from freak-ville, so,"

Sam asks, suddenly, "Does the candy have any nuts in it?" Ellie pauses halfway through opening the Swedish Fish bag. Dean whips his head Sam's way, pushing his eyebrows in.

 _"What?"_

Rolling his eyes, Sam sets down the cassette tape he had been reading. He sighs. "The candy, did you check – "

"It's freakin' gummies, Sam. There's none of that crap she's allergic to in it."

"Yeah, but it could have been made in a factory that also manufactures nuts. It should say so on the packaging."

Ellie carefully places the candy bag next to her as if it were a bomb ready to detonate at any given moment. She only found out she was allergic during her old life when she was three-years-old and tried a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at her neighbor's house. Her parents had never let her before, and Ellie quickly discovered why when her face blew up like a cheery red balloon, and her throat began closing. Turns out, she wasn't just allergic to peanuts, but all sorts; tree nuts and such. Sam tried to give her some trail mix once and John almost crashed the car trying to stop him.

Dean says something about Ellie's allergy not being "that bad" and how she "doesn't have to be stabbed with an EpiPen every time she thinks about what she's allergic to". Using the steering wheel and his seat for leverage, Dean slants his body to view the nine-year-old in the back bench seat. "Right?"

Ellie shrugs. She guesses so. But she does not really want to take chances because she hates her EpiPen due to the needle, most of the time keeping it out of sight and stuffed in the back of a drawer in their motel room, even though she is not supposed to.

Grouching out a: "Let me see it,", Dean swipes the Swedish Fish and reads over the information on the back of the bag. He thrusts it at Sam dramatically, showing that it is safe, before tossing it back to his little sister.

Ellie pops the first Swedish Fish into her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the flavor, and chewing slowly since the gummies easily get stuck in her teeth. Sam grips the cassette tape box that is still in his lap after all of this time, his fingers dancing over the tapes either because he is searching for a specific one, or for emphasis. "I swear, man, _you got_ to update your cassette tape collection."

"Why?" The chocolate lab in the green pickup is sitting up and sun bathing. Her pink tongue hangs out of the side of her mouth while the soft breeze combs over her wirier hair. Ellie wants to go pet the dog but she knows she can't. She munches harder on her food, takes a swig of Sprite.

"Well, for one – _they're cassette tapes._ And, two," There's the scratchy sound of plastic while Sam picks through the box. He surfaces with three tapes, holding them up to Dean. "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? _Metallica?_ Ellie is a nine-year-old girl. She should be listening to the Jonas Brothers or something, not the _greatest hits of mullet rock."_

"Who?" Dean asks, snatching a tape from Sam – Ellie thinks it is Metallica. She saw the Jonas Brothers on TV once when their motel room actually got Disney Channel. They seemed nice. "El doesn't mind my music, and, besides . . . house rules, Sammy – " He inserts the tape. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Dean smiles at Sam, but with no teeth, more so a crap-eating grin. He shoves the key in the ignition, turning, and Baby roars to life with Metallica blaring through the speakers. Reaching back to buckle up, Ellie thinks she hears Sam tell Dean about Sammy being the name of a chubby twelve-year-old, and his name is _Sam._ She hopes that his words don't apply to her because she calls him Sammy all of the time.

Dean points to his ear. "Sorry, I can't hear you!" he yells over the music, checking his mirrors to see if he is clear to pull out of the gas station. "The music's too loud!"

He winks at Sam who glares at him, Ellie washes another Swedish Fish down with Sprite, and they leave the little gas station on the outskirts of Jericho, California in the dust.


	4. Chapter 4: Lying Instead of Trying

Chapter 4: Lying Instead of Trying

 _November 1, 2005_

 _Just outside of Jericho, California_

Ellie decides that California is a lot less gloom and doom once the yellow-gold of the sun is floating over the land at the right angle; like a brush stroke of paint on an empty canvas. The trees inhabit each side of the intrusive and loud road. They stretch up high to deny and cover the pavement's existence, opening towards the blues of the sky. Through a break in the indifferent trees, surrounding mountains peak through, seeming to go on forever in Ellie's eyes. Yet, the further away the ridges are, the more fake they look to the girl; like static on an aged motel TV screen. If they get to stay here for a little while Ellie hopes she might begin to see all of the colors Sam paints California in, but she doesn't know it for a fact that it is possible.

She will lose him again on Monday to his dark apartment, college classes, nameless girlfriend, and the friends she was never allowed to make. All Ellie wants them to be is a family again, the flicker of the one she saw before college was in question; after she stopped smelling smoke and remembering things she wasn't supposed to each time she closed her eyes to induce sleep, after she figured out how talking worked again since the night in November of 2002, after Sam and Dean began smiling at her instead of turning away, after she called John _"_ _Dad"_ for the first time by accident, but it stuck, and after she began hanging around Sam every chance she got because his words are formulated in a way that when he speaks to uncertainty each syllable is punctuated, and she believes every word.

Sighing at her thoughts and wishes, Ellie places her chin on the frame of her open window. The Impala is humming; Baby always sounds like whatever is under the hood is far more powerful than the little car can hold. She stays stitched together regardless; though, and the anxious energy within only leaks out at certain intervals. Baby makes Ellie feel safe, but right now she is causing the girl's teeth to clank together uncomfortably, so Ellie lies an arm under her head to lessen the blow.

Being exposed directly to the whipping winds and natural state of the road leads Ellie to see that what was some rain and chills at Stanford last night was apparently an angry storm in Jericho. It's funny how weather works, how it decides to erupt in a specific area while leaving other places dry. Dean eases up on the gas for once and drives a little more slowly than usual to steer clear of debris and trees that look about ready to croak. The cleanup crew has yet to start on the road they're driving on since it is a less-traveled, back road.

The seatbelt is digging into Ellie's stomach since she is practically hanging out of the car, and it is constricting her more than she'd like it to. She extends the elastic to make it seem like she is a lot bigger than her body really is. Holding it there, her right arm drapes over the frame of the Impala, bent at the elbow through the down window. The force of however fast Dean is going combined with the stillness of everything else shoves Ellie's arm back each time she attempts to straighten it. She bobs her arm up and down to ride out the current of the wind, twisting her fingers around and transfixed by it all.

She makes an attempt to grab at air by clenching her fist, but she feels nothing. Not even when the nine-year-old lets it go.

"Shouldn't Ellie be in school right now?" Ellie hears Sam begin to question Dean. "What exactly does she do for school anyway?" When her oldest brother doesn't reply right away, Ellie watches Sam slide his eyebrows close to each other so little lines appear on his face. He does that when he's thinking hard about something and she's surprised he doesn't have a headache from it. Sam rustles around in his seat to face Dean with a type of disbelief-realization in his eyes. "You know that's illegal, right?"

 _What's illegal?_ Ellie floats and swivels her limbs back into the vehicle. She doesn't understand why Sam thinks they went so wrong as to break the law. All she knows is of Dean and John trying to do good.

 _"What?"_ Dean sounds equally confused, voice all high and airy. But he must get it in the next second because he levels out and rips his eyes away from the road for a moment. "No, Sam, _Jesus . . ."_ Dean grips the steering wheel, gliding around a left turn. "We're hunters, not barbarians, okay? And I know it may not always seem that way to you, but it's true."

It seems like Sam is about to say something but it never comes. Instead he mumbles a _"_ _Yeah, sure. Whatever."_ and it ends there.

"If you gotta know, Dad signed her up for some online thing. They send her work every week."

Ellie puffs out air from her mouth, crashing back into her seat with a _thump._ She whines, "It's dumb."

"Can't exactly argue with you there, sweetheart, but it is _necessary."_ corrects Dean. He adjusts his mirror to look back at her and she rolls onto her side, using her seatbelt as a makeshift, thin pillow. When she is certain Dean has his attention back on the road, Ellie slips around on the seat for a few seconds until she is mostly upright again. The seatbelt holds back her movement a lot, but Dean and John force her to wear one.

Ellie uses the wind to sweep her messy bangs out of her line of vision and rotates her hand to individually tap every finger on her right hand on Baby's interior. Sam is on his silver flip phone at this point and it catches some rays of the sun while against his ear. Ellie can only hear his part of the conversation. She wonders for a brief moment if it is his to-be-named girlfriend, but his voice doesn't soften like his eyes did the first time he mentioned the other life force in his shadow of a home. Then, Sam asks about a "John Winchester" and the call has to be for the case.

It must be too hard to dial up home – even if it is a new home – because old habits die hard. Ellie is struggling to imagine Sam's hand twitching over scrambled digits and sleeping with his phone under his pillow in case it made a sound. He was the one supposed to call; though – after he left . . .

"JERICHO 7" Ellie spots on a passing, black sign, outlined in white bold letters. That means they're close. The lower the number, the better; that's what she's learned, anyhow. She's not sure how long miles are, or what makes up time and distance. It's all different, yet the same. _Somehow._

There's music flowing out of the radio, but there always is, so it is merely background noise to the nine-year-old these days. Sam presses a button and snaps his phone closed. He turns in Dean's direction. _"Alright –_ so there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something, I guess."

"Why would he be there?" Ellie asks. She leans as far forward as her seatbelt permits, fingertips dancing on the back of Sam's seat. Some days the hunter who took the young girl under his wing is referred to as _John_ in her mind; other days it is _Dad._ Right now is a _John_ time because he has been far away for so long. Ellie wonders why he's chasing ghosts in sad places without them when there is the possibility to be whole again with Sam.

Dean narrows his eyes his brother's way but the manner of how he delivered his words say otherwise. It's the same way he speaks to the strangers that they want something from; calm and collected, yet sincere. Almost as if he's borderline selling something, and if Ellie didn't know any better she might buy into it if he told her that there were Chupacabra's on Mercury. "He wouldn't be. Think of it as a, uh," Dean's mouth turns sideways for a moment before dragging itself back down. _"precaution."_

She considers it. "Like a seatbelt?"

"Uh, sure. _Yeah."_ He thinks, pressing himself further into the road noise and asphalt. "We're close to finding Dad, just narrowing down our options." Dean tries to catch Ellie's eye in the rearview and she knows Dean wants to confirm that she understands. "One less place to look."

The sun stops catching on trees and suddenly the road extends out into an sullen, echoing canyon. Tips of the mountains fade the blue sky into a thin yellow and a river crosses through the large mounds of rock, stitched together by a two lane bridge meant for cars. Ellie observes her eldest brother perk up at the change of scenery because caffeine can only get him through so many forests and miles.

Dean grins, holding his teeth between his lips, _"Check it out."_ He guides the car off on the shoulder, rolling up the windows, and lets her run to a stop when he eases off the gas. Ellie unbuckles and can faintly smell Sam's shampoo from where she is leaning over his shoulder to get a look at what they pulled over for. Squinting through the windshield and faint sun, she spots a handful of cop cars strung across the bridge much like the neon "CAUTION" tape present as well. Some people in uniform are patrolling the pavement, and Dean kills the engine and whatever whispers that are left of the song on the radio.

Ellie braces her chin on Baby's front seat upholstery, directly behind Sam. He stirs from his focused people watching when Dean reaches across him to gain access of the glove compartment, flicking the latch open with a finger. It spits out a tin box with a scratched surface and pale yellow tint. He slides through photo ID badges of many occupations before finding an appropriate one for the situation.

Dean purses his lips and ducks his chin in while reading over the badges one last time. _"Huh."_ He hands one over to Sam. "Alright, Sammy; _let's go."_

Sam rolls his eyes. "It's Sam – "

"Sure, Samantha." Dean's eyes collide with Ellie, who looks at him through eyelashes and unruly hair, almost expectantly. A cherry red Nintendo Game Boy appears in his hand suddenly, and Ellie tilts her head and pushes her face around to wonder just when her brother pulled it out of its resting place in the glove box to hide from her. He angles it over the back of the front seat toward the nine-year-old, "Here you are, Your Highness."

She smiles, taking the electronic device. "Thank you."

"Remember: keep the volume at a minimum and – "

" – don't let anyone see me." Ellie finishes, already lying down on her back against the bench seat while she holds the Game Boy over her abdomen. Her sneakers are in the footwell and her toes wiggle when Dean pushes at her sock-covered feet. She can no longer see Sam from her position, but he must look some form of miserable from the way Dean addresses him.

"C'mon, Sam, lighten up. It's Halloween."

"Halloween was yesterday!" Sam calls after him in an annoyed reminder, but the squeak of shifting weight in the Impala and the slam of a car door highly indicates that Dean did not hear a word.

Ellie stares into the darkened screen and reflection of herself through the glass of the Game Boy she still has yet to turn on. "Do you really hate being called 'Sammy'?"

 _"What –_ El – Ellie; you – you know it's not like that – " He stumbles around in speech, words frantic as if he's trying to erase, but the paper ripped and now the mistake is even worse.

But the girl gets it, for right then. "It's okay, Sam. You don't have to lie to me."

Her Game Boy screen is still lifeless. She can only slightly make out the curls at the ends of her brother's hair and his bright eyes, but she can still sense him clenching his jaw and moving a bunch of molecules around with his chest. The air hums. _Promising something._

"I'm not lying," Sam's words are careful, as if they have to be or else he is afraid that no one will listen: "I just – " An interruption – _always an interruption when it comes to the fractured relationship between Sam Winchester and his baby sister_ – comes when Dean thumps on the glass of the driver's side window.

With his attention on Sam, he lifts the top half of his body upwards, eyes widening, and spreads out his arms. _"Dude!"_ The impatient nature of his tone causes Ellie to lift an eyebrow.

Sam sighs, heavy and frustrated. He turns around but Ellie is already waiting for him. "Later, okay?" the offer is gentle.

She doesn't reply because the Game Boy flutters to life, but he exits the car anyways.

* * *

Ellie Winchester (Blackwell) threw her old life away because she was faced with no other choice. She surely would have self destructed otherwise, and she spent the better part of a year floating through the motions; but the Winchesters took her in and brought the young girl back. It's why she refers to Sam and Dean as her brothers and John as her dad if he sticks around in one town for long enough, or if she gets a longing to hear his threadbare voice over the speaker of a telephone. Ellie has moved on to the acceptance stage of how she sees people, and everything else before that can get pushed further away than the stars.

However, Ellie Winchester remains nine-years-old. There are a lot of things she has not seen because they are more the behind-the-scenes of the job. She hasn't killed a monster or ever had to directly face one straight on. She's only handled a pistol enough times to count on one hand when John got in those rare, stupid-drunk moods to teach her something new instead of locking her up in the motel room. Sometimes, Dean helps her tie her shoes because she cannot seem to get the knots as sturdy as he can and Ellie still enjoys running around on playgrounds, and eating ice cream, and asking questions, and ponies, and whatever else nine-year-old girls like. It's only right now that she is stretched out in the back of a 1967 Chevy Impala playing Pokémon on a Game Boy while her older brothers pretend to be people they aren't so they can get leads on why a person died unusually when they shouldn't have.

No one would believe them if they didn't lie. And even then some people are still skeptical.

Which is why she half-startles when her eyes catch something out of their peripheral and she glances up from her silent Pokémon battle to see someone peering into the car through the sealed window. It's a Deputy Sheriff wearing Aviators that block out his eyes and a tall brown Sheriff hat. Ellie freezes, allowing the Game Boy to slide to the floor mat. She is sure that he has seen her – _how could he have not?_ – but then he is walking away and Ellie is trying to catch her breath between her teeth.

 _"Why do you have to step on my foot?"_

 _"Why do you have to talk to police like that?"_

The familiar and genuine spirits of Ellie's brothers' voices as they approach are what cause her to snap out of whatever hold she was in. They are muffled by the protection Baby has to offer, but she could still tell that Dean asked the first question and Sam the second one. It doesn't exactly sound like the police encounter went according to plan due to their bickering, but it still went, she guesses. Leaning down, Ellie picks up the dropped Game Boy on the floor – seeing that she lost the battle – while Dean reminds Sam like it is the most obvious thing in the world that the authority _doesn't actually know what is going on here._

"We're all alone on this," Dean reminds his brother. He opens the car door and fills the Impala with his voice and presence. "If we're gonna find Dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

The two Winchester brothers settle into the car and Ellie flips off her gaming system. She spots the Sheriff Deputy from minutes prior on the long bridge conversing with the police officers Dean and Sam had spoken to. Her jaw clenches when the man gestures their way.

"De," she forms, softly. "I was quiet but I think one of them saw me." Dean and Sam exchange wary looks. It's not a catastrophic problem, but a variable that brings questions as to why they're hauling a nine-year-old cross country in the middle of the school year. Why they brought her to a crime scene. Questions they don't want to answer.

Dean swallows and looks at the authoritative figures on the steel bridge. It is clear that there are eyes on the three of them and Baby. He breathes, "Alright, buckle up, kiddo. Looks like it's time to get the hell out of dodge."

* * *

 _November 1, 2005_

 _Jericho, California_

The rest of the drive to Jericho is short lived and Ellie spends it slowly munching on the leftover chips from that morning. By the time they pull up alongside the curb where many shops are glued together, the sky has grayed and the air is buzzing. It is almost as if a type of gloom hangs over the town, dangling and ready to pour down at any given shift.

Leaving Baby to wade through the rumbling atmosphere, Ellie skips down the sidewalk a few feet to where Dean is inserting a few coins into a parking meter. A group of teenagers walk by laughing and pushing at each other loudly. In the distance a _BEEP!_ of a car locking can be heard. Ellie feels Sam come up behind them when Dean speaks: "I betcha that's her." She follows his attention to across the street where a girl is carrying a stack of pink papers, taping them to buildings and such as she goes. They're chasing a lead received on the bridge because apparently the victim had a girlfriend, who was the last person to speak with him before his disappearance. Ellie is unaware of names and specifics, but this girl looks like she could fit the description.

 _"Yeah."_ replies Sam, soft like hot chocolate and piano keys pressed with minimum pressure.

When the three of them come to the diagonal lines of the crosswalk Dean reaches for Ellie's hand. She steps back. "I'm not a baby . . ." she grumbles at the cracks in the sidewalk.

"You embarrassed to be seen with me?" questions Dean with a smile lurking at the edges of his mouth. He pokes Ellie in the ribs, and she jumps from her muscles tingling and curls into herself. _"Huh?"_

Ellie squeals when Dean moves to poke her again and she nearly crashes into Sam. _"No!_ I just want to know when I don't have to hold your hand anymore."

Dean compresses his lips. "Hmm . . ." He takes ahold of Ellie's left hand in a quick swipe and a wink. "When you're taller than me."

"But I'll never be as tall as you!" The young girl carries a whine to her voice by the time they step onto the black-and-white candy cane crosswalk. Dean waves at a car that stopped to let the three of them pass through, practically yanking his little sister along.

"Exactly."

It's then that Ellie realizes how distant Sam is being and she twists her head over her shoulder to look back at him. The usual is Dean and her – Dad on occasion – but Sam has been a ghost on a faraway island the past two years, and Ellie does not know how to react to someone she was once so close to. He seems sad but still manages a smile when their eyes meet.

"You must be Amy," Ellie hears Dean greet the girlfriend of the missing person. She swivels her head back around and Dean keeps his tight, anchoring grip on her hand.

The girl is on her tiptoes taping one of her pink papers to the brick of a closed shop; it is a missing person's poster. She settles back on her heels when she is done, looking a bit unsure, but, nonetheless, confirms that she is indeed Amy.

Dean does not seem fazed by her hesitation, instead he steps a bit closer with Ellie still linked to him and uses his salesman voice, "Troy told us about you. We're his uncles." he claims. Taking his free hand, Ellie watches him point at each one of them while he continues. "I'm Dean, this is Sammy, and that is Troy's little cousin, Ellie."

Amy squints her eyes at them. "He never mentioned you to me." She turns and begins walking away along a high, dark fence. The wind catches the brunette hairs not included in her loose ponytail.

Ellie feels the pull and is aware of limbs and joints moving as Dean tugs her after Amy. He chuckles dryly. "Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much. We're up in Modesto." He lies so easily, almost as if the lie itself doesn't know what it truly is, and Ellie half-wonders if he ever hid the truth from her about something that mattered. Not that she would know, anyway. Dean has a whole list of make-believe lives he has if he ever gets in a jam. Her favorite is the one with the white-picket fence, and apple pies in the morning, and playing fetch with a Golden Retriever in the backyard, mainly because she just wants a dog. But that simply isn't a part of the family business. Never was.

Sam's voice is over Ellie's shoulder and then it wraps around her as he moves in front to gain attention. "So, we're lookin' for him, too, and, well, we're kind of asking around . . ." His words rise up in a kind-of-question and they have stopped walking at this point. Amy doesn't say anything, and the nine-year-old girl guesses it is because she doesn't know who they are, and her brothers are being a little pushy, and maybe she won't speak about Troy because she would rather him appear to them with a wide smile declaring he only got lost than explain who he is, if he is anything at all anymore.

People walk by and their presence brushes over Ellie's short hair and the surface of her skin in faint displacements of air. Cars creep up and down the streets with occasion hums of engines and slams of doors. The wind rocks the town back and forth, and Dean's fingers twitch within Ellie's as Amy decides whether or not she wants to reply to Sam, or slap another missing person's poster on the concrete.

Another girl about Amy's height and age sides up to her. She has posters tucked under her arm and was distributing them further down the sidewalk. She asks Amy if she is okay, most likely because it was a weird moment to walk into, and things seemed tense and bothersome. Amy says she is fine.

Sam places his hands in his pockets, shifting, "Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?"

* * *

The questions lead the five of them a few buildings down to a quiet diner, making the conversation less uptight and formal. They sit in a booth by a window with white lace curtains, which is the main source of light in the diner since outside the clouds are dark and rolling. Amy and the girl who was also handing out posters, who has since been introduced as her sister – Ellie thinks her name is Robyn? – sit across from them with their backs towards the door. They both are wearing dark-colored makeup and have some piercings on their faces, but Ellie doesn't think they look ugly or anything. She finds herself staring at the leather bracelets on Robyn's right wrist and the silver necklace shaped like a tree hanging off of Amy's neck.

Ellie ends up smashed between her two overgrown brothers on their side of the booth, but she reverts from complaining when their waiter sets down a cup of orange juice – a beverage she couldn't have at the grubby gas station. The straw is a bendy one and even though she bites down too hard on it while drinking like she always does, she still has fun discovering each way it can twist.

She's playing with Sam's straw wrapper by folding it over on itself as many times as it can go when Amy begins explaining her last interaction with her boyfriend. "I was on the phone with Troy, he was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and, he never did . . ." Amy sounds sad and Ellie feels sad for her. She knows how broken promises and empty phone calls feel, and she gives the woman a weighted smile.

"He didn't say anything strange or out of the ordinary?" asks Sam in his usual soft and gentle way.

"No." Amy shakes her head. "Nothing I can remember."

Ellie nudges Dean because he is blocking the exit from the booth. She mouths: _"Bathroom."_ He nods and angles his body so that she can crawl out. The young girl passes an elderly couple eating what she figures is their dinner because Dean told her once that old people like to earlier than everyone else. When she drifts past the kitchen to get to the bathroom she hears bells dinging and sizzling from the grill. All of the smells combined make her a bit lightheaded and uncomfortable, and she pushes into the women's bathroom with a huff.

The bathroom isn't too terrible and she is the only one in there the whole time. The water may mostly run cold and the paper towels are a bit soggy, but she has been in grosser bathrooms before. Before leaving, she takes a look into the mirror for a second, tying her jacket around her waist because she is beginning to get warm. She ruffles around her light brown hair that is starting to carry traces of blonde she doesn't understand so that it looks more alive. She pushes her bangs up to get a good look at her eyes and they are still the brown shade they always are, a white ring settles around them from the bathroom light.

Afterwards, Ellie walks back to the booth and Dean pulls her up back into her spot. Robyn is describing something.

"It's kind of this local legend." Her hands are spread out and open on the wood surface of the table in a natural talking gesture. "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago." Ellie bites down on her lower lip and scrunches her face a little bit. She knows it's part of the whole thing, what they do and everything, but she doesn't always like to hear about people dying. "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

No one ever truly disappears into nothing.

They just go somewhere else where the people that knew them don't wander to.


	5. Chapter 5: The Woman in White

**I went on a month long road trip across the United States. I don't know how the Winchesters do it.**

* * *

Chapter 5: The Woman in White

 _November 1, 2005_

 _Jericho, California_

The interior of the small California town's library is a grainy brown with a tint of grey crawling up the walls and deep in the corners if someone were to look hard enough. The building is perfumed in decaying books and dust from where they wither like flowers. It tickles Ellie's nose when she walks through the door.

A student volunteer, who works only on the weekends at the library to get in her community services hours for graduation, is behind the vanilla colored counter. Ellie notices that she has rounded purple glasses that trace the bridge of her nose and a pen is tucked behind her right ear, peeking through thinner strands of black hair. The teenager quickly explains the layout of the library to the three Winchesters and offers them a library card if they plan on checking any books out. Her glasses slowly slide down her nose while she talks and she pushes them up with a knuckle. The nine-year-old thinks that the older girl almost seems as nervous as this town and the rolling and crashing clouds outside.

Sam smiles with a: "Thanks, but we just need to use a computer." in his teeth and the girl directs them to the back right corner where the computers are located. Dean finds a vacant computer and Ellie and Sam sit down at a table behind him. Ellie has her backpack open in front of her on the tabletop, but she takes a second before reaching her hand in to acquire this week's school work. Her eyes scan the room while she searches faces for any familiar ones. She sees teenagers typing away at bulky computer screens like Dean; headphones are covering their ears, and the screen illuminates their facial features, forming a small picture in their eyes from the reflection. There are older people browsing through aisles piled high with books and even kids younger than her are here, clumped on a circular carpet with picture books cradled in their laps. Ellie doesn't really read besides what she has to for school.

Once when she is done looking over the library, she realizes she doesn't recognize anyone like she had hoped. She stuffs her arm into her bag. They're all just strangers.

Sometimes, Ellie wants to know more than only her family, more than only hunters. She wants to have friends, but she loses all the ones she makes from traveling so often, and what hurts is that they never leave her, but she always has to leave them. Because it is the life. And she can never explain the real reason why she has to go the times she actually gets to say goodbye, besides that her dad has to travel for work a lot.

Even the people they do help – Ellie usually never gets to see them again. It is the point; though, to appear, do the job, and then disappear like they were never there, like they are the phantoms they hunt. To not hear from the people a hunter saves is a good thing. It means a job well done.

Ellie pulls out her math book and a notebook that has a pencil stashed in the rings from her backpack. She opens to the dog-eared page and begins scribbling down some of the problems that are mostly numbers. Math is Ellie's strong suit when she can understand what the question is asking because it involves straight forward numbers that are not backwards to her. However, recently some word problems have been popping up in the work she is sent to complete from her online program, and those she fumbles through.

The computer monitors hum, there are clicks from keyboards and a computer mouse. Pages turn, a printer groans, a woman coughs. Someone walks by and Ellie feels the air move. Sighing, she leans away from her work and pushes her thick bangs back.

Sam frowns, shifting, "Hey, _bug._ Do you need help?" Ellie freezes, head up and pencil falling slack between her fingers. He hasn't called her that since – since before –

"Yeah, El," Dean butts in, back still turned to his younger siblings to face the computer screen, "Sammy over there knows everything. Mr. _'I-got-accepted-into-Stanford' – "_

"Shut up, Dean."

Being nine, Ellie doesn't fully understand the concept of college and why Sam had to go so far to attend one. Dean never went away and college isn't mandatory, so why Sam? Why did they all have to split in two? Apparently, Stanford is a good college, great one, even; which is the justification that Sam used the night he left. It still took him from Ellie, though.

Dean taps away at the computer. Ellie watches as he keeps entering things into the machine and it beeps meekly at him. Puffing, he takes a break and begins making _"tsk-ing"_ noises through his teeth. His ankles cross.

There are wheels on the bottom of the library chairs and Sam utilizes them to roll up next to Dean. Ellie remains where she is, but she doesn't go back to her math, and the books settle and relax against the wooden table. Sam studies the computer screen for what has made Dean stumped. Ellie cannot read what they are looking at because she is too far away, so the screen is white and rippling in a sea of nothing.

Sam reaches for the abandoned computer mouse Dean left alone to enter his thoughts. "Let me try – "

Dean slaps his hand away before he can even make contact with the mouse. _"I got it."_ Ellie sees his back stiffen and shoulders square as he locks himself around the computer to prevent a Sam invasion. He does not want any help. Neither does Ellie half of the time, but she still has to hold Dean's hand when they cross the street, or are in crowded areas, and she _always_ must stay in his line of vision when she convinces him to take her to the park – as if someone is destined to kidnap her – and she has been locked in motel rooms and Baby more times than she can count while everyone else marches into battle – which isn't so bad until the anxiety of them never coming back weaves into her head.

Yet, the answer for the extra babying is unfailingly the same each time: _"Ellie, you are nine-years-old. Okay? Besides, you know Dad would kill me. So, c'mon,"_

Ellie's fingertips crawl to the number two pencil nestled in the crease of her math book. She twirls it through her fingers for a second. She begins sketching tiny hearts and stars in the margin of her paper.

 _"Dude!"_ a protest, undoubtedly Dean's surges from the general area of Ellie's brothers. Her attention drifts to spot her eldest brother floating past, limbs flailing to get back to where he once was. Sam arranges his weight and bones in front of the computer in the absence of Dean. When Dean scoots close enough he smacks Sam on the shoulder. "You're such a control freak!" His annoyance is reeled in, trying to keep his voice lowered since they are in a public place – a library, if anything – but Ellie witnesses some heads raise and eyes on the three of them, nonetheless.

Putting down her pencil, the young girl tries to stretch her toes to the carpet, which is thin and a dark color. But, try as she might, her legs just aren't long enough, at least to lap over the ground and rest with it at this height. Her brothers are talking but at this point she is no longer listening. She is faintly aware of typing, and clicking, and scrolling. The front door moves like a whisper as another person comes into the library.

Dean hooks a hand in her chair and pulls her to him and into the inner circle. Ellie squints at the screen to let her eyes adjust to the new angle. There are a lot of words bouncing around. It looks like an article of some kind.

"Alright, so, this was in 1981," declares Sam, eyes moving down the page when he scrolls. "Uh, Constance Welch, twenty-four-years-old, jumps off of the Sylvania Bridge, and drowns in the river." The article produces a black-and-white smiling photograph of Constance. Ellie thinks that she looks pretty, but the image is also haunting, to stare at someone who isn't around anymore. She doesn't understand why anyone would want to jump off a bridge.

Sighing, Dean leans forward. "Does it say why she did it?"

 _"Yeah._ An hour before they found her, she had called 911. Her two little kids were in the bathtub and she left them alone for a minute. When she came back; though, they weren't breathing. They both died."

Ellie feels heavy. The situation sounds awful. She grabs Dean's hand and begins twisting the silver band on his finger. The ring is dulled in the artificial lighting. He hums.

Sam reads some more of the article. Constance's husband had given a statement. He lost his whole family. Ellie turns Dean's hand over so she can reach his palm. His limbs are loose and move easily. She doesn't want to think about a young mom and kids more little than her drowning. She doesn't want to think about losing everyone because a part of her she buried knows about it, and it tingles.

But people are disappearing, maybe drowning, too, and she knows they have to stop it. There does not need to be anymore Amy's slapping missing persons posters to every street corner, or Joseph Welch's grieving on a bridge.

 _Wait. A bridge – ?_

Ellie blinks at the colorless photographs on the webpage. She can understand them right away unlike the words. She stretches across Dean to place an index finger on one of the images. The pixels smudge under her fingerprint and she can feel the energy of them buzzing. It's like touching static; a pulsation of a memory.

She asks, "Is that the bridge from earlier?"

* * *

 _November 1, 2005_

 _Just outside of Jericho, California_

It's well past dark when the midnight black Impala rumbles up to the Sylvania Bridge. The purring engine and artificial headlights click off as the car falls asleep. There are no suspecting cops this time, the only witness being the yellow "CAUTION" tape stretched across the bridge's entrance, fluttering in the soft wind.

Ellie stays in the car while her two older brothers step outside into the autumn air and wispy fog. She gets a taste of season when Baby creaks and the doors click closed. The young girl watches with tired brown eyes as Sam and Dean brush under the crime scene tape and drift down a ways. They eventually stop walking to stand by the railing facing the river.

The glass is cool to the touch when Ellie presses her forehead to Baby's window. Her breathing is heavy and she creates a foggy patch on the window by her mouth. Ellie's eyelids are weighted and she considers dropping off into the night, but she can't. It may be quiet in the car but everything else is loud. She doesn't have answers yet, and Dean and Sam have hardly slept since they took the case, and they still can't find Dad, and Troy hasn't turned up, and she is scared of Monday, and this tall steel bridge, and college, and losing her brothers in the fog.

Sam and Dean begin to round back. They appear through the windshield hunched in layers from the cold and their pace is brisk. Ellie picks out Sam's hurried voice when they near the car, "No, I'm not like you! And this is _not_ going to be my life!" They stop when Sam shuffles in front of Dean so he has to pay attention. To his words. To him.

"Well, you have a responsibility," Dean states, calmly.

"To who? To Dad?"

"No. _To us."_

Ellie closes her eyes. They hurt. She presses her head harder on the glass.

"Look, _Dean,"_ His tone is back to being Sammy. Her Sammy, who sounds like warm coffee and guitar strings. Who read things to her when she couldn't. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. I mean, Ellie has no relation to her, and even if we do find the thing that killed her and Ellie's family, what difference would it make? _They're gone. And they're not coming back."_

There's a slam and Ellie's eyes snap open. Dean has Sam against the bridge structure, gripping him firmly by the collar. She cannot hear them anymore. Their bodies are silhouetted in the black-blue of the night, the dangling, pearly bridge lights, and the fog that just won't seem to go away, like a bad omen.

Ellie can taste the tears and she feels them slithering down her cheeks. She flops against the back bench seat and lies down in the welcoming leather, trying to gain control while swiping the tears away. Sam _doesn't_ want to be here. Sam _doesn't_ want this life. There's no way to get him back, and she knows, but she just wishes that things were different; that he wasn't right. The monster that hurt her also hurt the Winchesters, and that is why they are doing this. She does not know _"Mom"_ and she never will. But Ellie cannot think about what she used to have. _She can't, she can't, she can't, can't , can't –_

In the end, Dean brings her back. Like he did before, like he did after Sam.

Ellie latches onto his voice when she can hear their conversation again. She thinks that they probably assume that she is asleep at this point, or they're too far away for her to hear. They're not.

"You know, after you left, Ellie stopped talking again. Nothing but radio silence for two months. She got close to you, and then, you just – what? _Adios?"_ Ellie allows a tear to flick onto Baby's back seat. She hopes she doesn't mind. The car doesn't even twitch. Ellie rolls to lie on her stomach with her chin balanced on bent arms. She watches, sniffling, the perfect, little circle of liquid seep into the upholstery. She wipes her nose with her jacket sleeve and lets the rest of her sadness dry in the corner of her eyes. "You can't do that to her, man, _you can't just walk out._ And what was I supposed to tell her? I couldn't, Sam."

Ellie usually has a knack for tuning out – or being conveniently not present – whenever John and Dean's voices get to that dangerous low level because she knows they are talking about her. They go back and forth in a whisper argument and she wishes that they would just stop. She hates it because she is the cause, so she cannot be around to hear what they really think. There is no escaping it this time.

"Dean . . . I – I didn't know – "

"Yeah, of course you didn't. You wanna know why? 'Cause you weren't friggin' here!"

Following a quick stutter, the Impala's engine turns over. No more voices carry to the car.

Not having heard the telltale croak of one of Baby's doors, Ellie uses her forearms to push herself away from the seat and onto all fours, before she maneuvers to sit upright again. The headlights show her wide-eyed brothers standing in the middle of the bridge, motionless and confused. Bugs fly by the edges of the light. Ellie cranes her neck to pan around the inside of the car. She is alone, the key slot is empty, yet Baby is idling, and waiting for a life source to direct her with what to do or where to go.

Stunned and unsure of how to react because the car has always been her safe house, the nine-year-old meets her own puffy eyes in the rearview mirror. Her skin is shiny when the light takes hold of it – cheeks are tinted in red, and hair is sticking to her face and everywhere else the strands shouldn't go. She watches her breath escape her lips and swirl into a form like the ominous fog. Ellie doesn't feel cold, though. Her insides are burning but she cannot move to put out the blaze.

The lights on the bridge flicker in and out of consciousness. Dean yells at Ellie to get out of the car right as she hears the locks click. She dives to the door handle, but each time she turns the switch to unlock it, the switch flips back to locked, until it refuses to budge entirely. She kicks frantically at the door and the window.

Suddenly, Ellie freezes when she feels like a bucket of ice is dropped on her head. Her blood rushes to her toes and the thin hairs blanketing her arms stick up on end. She turns because she's being called. Not out loud, not physically, _but it's there._

A pretty, young woman in a once elegant white dress sits rigidly in the driver's seat. Lingering, wavy black hair pools over her shoulders and long slender fingers curl themselves tightly around the steering wheel like tree branches. She gazes straight ahead, arms locked in place. Her skin is almost as white as her dress.

The woman is a statue when she speaks the words in an almost monotone way: _"I can never go home . . ."_

Ellie screams when she slams down on the gas pedal.

Baby lurches forward and her tires squeal against the asphalt, struggling to keep up with the abrupt acceleration. The Impala is powerful and hungry, and the force smashes Ellie against her seat while the car takes off and snaps the "CAUTION" tape in two. She can see her brothers sprinting down the bridge away from the speeding vehicle. She screeches at the woman in white to stop – _please, anything_ – but she either is too focused on the task at hand, or she cannot hear the nine-year-old's pleas.

Ellie is pinned to her seat, unable to move, so she instead opts for tilting her chin to get another look at the driver. Her organs are compressed and feel like they might fly into the trunk, and her mouth is loose and gasping for air when she chokes out, _"Constance – "_

The car dies in a shout at the bridge railing, nearly missing it. Ellie tumbles into the footwell, her body folding over itself as she lands on her bag and additionally gets a face full of old carpet. She groans and breathes in Baby. It's okay. They stopped.

When she sits up, breathing heavily, Constance is no where in sight.

Throwing herself out of the car and fighting dizziness, Ellie realizes the bridge is empty besides her and Baby. Her heart leaps when she runs to the edge of the railing, sneakers slapping against the bridge. The river is flowing nosily in a rush, and it drains her eyes and nose. Her head pounds when she screams over the sound of the water.

 _"Dean?! Sam?!"_ Ellie scrambles at the rusting railing. Her vocal chords are giving way. There is no answer – nature keeps moving. Baby is sleeping again. They could not have disappeared, they could not have gotten lost in the fog, they could not have _drowned._ No, they can't. They know how to swim and they're superheroes and Dean is Batman and – _"Dean?! Sam – "_

"Right here, Ellie," a weak, strained voice interrupts the young girl's distress. She leans over the railing to follow the source. Sam is hanging off a piece of the bridge's structure. "I'm okay."

 _"Sammy . . ."_

Sam grunts while pulling himself up. He eases back over the railing. He looks the same and Ellie launches at him, burying her face into his stomach and the dark fabric of his sweatshirt. He smells like rain and metal.

She feels through the layers of clothing and her coat Sam grip her back. His fingers are cold and trembling at the nerves. "Hey, _hey_ – it's okay. I'm okay, you're okay." He gives her a squeeze when she hiccups out a sob. It's been a rough night.

Ellie pulls away when Sam shouts Dean's name. She hurriedly steps to the railing to peer over it again. Everything is a grey-ish blue color down below from the lack of sunshine to illuminate the Earth, and her heart races as she searches for her missing brother. The one person in the world who never leaves, who always keeps her grounded. She spots movement by the bank of the river. It is Dean crawling out of the current and caked in mud.

"Dean?!" Ellie cries, her wobbly arms grabbing hold of the railing. Coughing, Dean sags to the ground. He rolls over to lie on his back in the dirt.

"Oh – hey, sweetheart!" Dean calls up to Ellie.

Sam is a brush of presence at Ellie's back. "Hey, are you alright?" He has to talk loudly over the rushing river water.

Dean holds up a hand, wheezing, _"I'm super."_

Sam begins to chuckle at the scenario, shaking his shaggy brown head of hair. Ellie smiles, relief washing through her veins and up to soothe her aching head.

* * *

Afterwards, Ellie sits in the driver's seat so nothing else can. She keeps the door ajar and has her legs hanging out of the side. She could easily hop out and escape if she wanted to. She can still clearly remember what it felt like when Constance was sitting in the exact place she is now. It felt like brushing against electricity and static, like when she touched the computer screen, only this time it wasn't buzzing and alive, but rather still and dead, and smelt like _cold,_ if even possible.

The nine-year-old stares down at her hands. They're sore and there are a few rips in the skin where she jammed her fingers trying to unlock the door. Ellie traces her new fingers with brown eyes. Dean has the Impala's hood propped open and she hears him fiddling around and checking up on the gears inside. She doesn't know what any of them do. He tried to explain them to her once about a week after Sam left to try to get her to show some signs of life. It didn't work.

Sam is pacing the margins of the bridge, searching for anything useful for the case. Ellie cannot see him but she can feel that he is around. Every so often Dean pauses in his work and Ellie assumes he is checking in with her. She knows she is being quiet but she could talk if she really wanted to. Unlike before, she can _feel_ the words in her throat.

Dean shuts the hood, most likely leaving muddy fingerprints on the surface because he is still covered from head to toe in it.

Ellie hears Sam's soft, calculated steps approach. His shoes scrape the ground a bit. "Is the car alright?"

 _"Yeah – "_ Dean huffs. He turns to lean against the front of the car. Ellie is aware of Baby dipping down a bit. "Whatever she did to her, it seems alright now. That Constance chick . . . My baby sister was in the car, _what a bitch!"_ The last exclamation echoes through the bridge, into the woods, and down the river.

Ellie curls her hands into fists. "I saw her," she says while looking down at her hands. "She was driving the car."

"Wait – " Sam moves around the front of the car to stand in front of Ellie. She finally moves her eyes up. His clothes are still slightly askew from earlier and his sweatshirt strings are uneven. "You didn't see Constance on the bridge?"

Narrowing her eyes, she shakes her head. "Just in the car. She said what she did on the recording," Ellie turns to Dean's dirt caked face. "that she couldn't go home . . ."

"And then she decided to go for a little test drive?" asks Dean.

"Yeah."

Sam moves to rest on the closed back door of the car next to Ellie. He crosses his arms. "Well, whatever is going on, she doesn't want us digging around to find it. That's for sure."

Dean groans. "You think?"

"So where's the trail go from here, genius?"

Dean shrugs so exaggeratedly that Ellie hears his hands thump against his jeans and the drenched leather of Dad's coat. He started wearing it after John stopped answering phone calls. Otherwise, the coat is curled up in a ball, tucked away in the trunk. It is usually a bit bigger on Dean than John, but now that it went through a river, the coat seems more out of place than usual wrapped around Dean's frame.

Dean curls his nose in and flicks some dirt off of his hands. Ellie does her best to lean out of any piece of dirt's way and also from the stench of whatever was in that river. It smells like warm chemicals packed with chalky dirt that she can practically taste, and it's not a good combination, at all. She tries to focus on the way Sam smells instead. Like pine trees and sleep and books and faint coffee that always lingers.

Sam sniffs the air. He grimaces. "Dude, you smell like a toilet."

* * *

 **Not sure if I am entirely happy with this chapter but I tried. This writing style is still very new to me.**

 **Regardless, I plan on having another one up soon.**

 **~ Rainy**


	6. Chapter 6: Getaway Car

Chapter 6: Getaway Car

 _November 2, 2005_

 _Jericho, California_

It's morning by the time Dean pulls the Impala up to the only motel in Jericho for an early-as-possible check-in. The three need to sleep on something other than the stiff leather of a car seat, eat food that isn't from a mostly melted cooler in the backseat or a going stale bag, and take some well needed showers. For the time being and without any leads, Dean informed Ellie that the case is being put on a temporary hold until they can gather their bearings after the previous night on the bridge. She is glad because even though she wants this case to be marked completed and for family feuds to be mended, she needs a break. California has been a lot for the young kid, and without John around to take control of every minor detail, Ellie has been exposed to variables she would normally not have been on a hunt. A ghost, for one thing.

Usually Ellie's "ghosts" include the other guests and staff at the town's motel; how strange she finds they can be as she sits people watching in the windowsill, wearing knee high socks because they are more fun to slide around in without an adult to tell her otherwise. Or, sometimes a branch brushing against the side of Baby during the croak of the wind could be scary, too. Because when there was no other choice in desperate times and duty calls, Ellie had to tag along, but it was always made sure of that the car was far from reaching the final destination, and was hidden well in the underbrush.

Now she has different ghosts following her around. She thinks about Constance when she walks into the check-in area of the motel after her brothers; how lost and alone she looked sitting in the driver's seat. Ellie knows what that feels like.

A fan spins nosily in the corner of the check-in office. Ellie notices that it is duct taped together at the seams. The radio on the counter spits out some rock song, the volume low enough to be reduced to just background noise. Rays of sunshine peek through the tilted blinds and spill onto the carpet.

An elderly man stands behind the counter. He seems tired, or bored – Ellie cannot decide which because it is early and he may have not had his cup of coffee yet, or his job is dull because he is the only one in here and few people are around – and he is wearing a shirt with a weird line design running vertical.

Dean, still having a fair amount of dirt covering his face, waltzes up to the counter. He plops a card down on the papers scattered across the counter. "One room, please," he says, flashing a smile.

Unimpressed, the elderly man picks up the card to examine it. He glances up at Dean for a moment, then back to the card. "You guys having a reunion or something?"

Ellie steps in closer. She doesn't understand. She is with all of her family, minus one.

Sam shifts, nervously, "What do you mean?"

"That other guy, Bert Aframian," the older man states like it is obvious. "He came in and bought out a room for the whole month."

Sam and Dean give each other a knowing look. Ellie is still confused. _Who's Bert?_

Dean uses an arm to lean on the counter. "Yeah, you know, it is something like that; some family reunion type shindig." The radio cracks as the song ends and a clearly overproduced commercial begins playing. Dean taps the counter. "So, do you happen to know where we could find our dear ol' uncle Bert?"

* * *

Room ten is the number the cranky man at the front desk gives them, grudgingly. Ellie thinks that he just wanted them to go away so he could go back to _whatever,_ but she doesn't mention it to her brothers. She walks behind them as they try to share the sidewalk heading down the strip of rooms to the one marked "10". Sam eventually pushes Dean off.

"Dude, you are so gross!" Sam exclaims, stopping at the room they need. Dean just grins. Ellie wrinkles her face, tilting her head when she looks up at Dean for some type of answer. She doesn't even know why they are here.

Sam kneels down in front of the door. A "DO NOT DISTURB" sign dangles from the handle. Dean reaches out to Ellie to guide her to him. She immediately scrunches her nose up when she is hit with the stench. They had to drive the whole way here with the windows down. "De, you smell," she complains, trying to pull away.

The grip on her holds steady. Dean shakes his head. "Nah, I smell like roses."

 _"You're impossible . . ."_ Sam tries to mutter, but Ellie still hears it, nonetheless.

"Hey, you," Dean turns around. He points at the red door labeled as the entrance to room ten. "more of _that,_ and less – " He flaps his hand around to represent a mouth. Sam rolls his eyes.

Dean throws a bent arm over Ellie's much smaller form. She is aware that his disgusting, river water and sticky mud state may rub off on her coat and bleed into the baby hairs on the nape of her neck. She can also not escape him. "Alright, kiddo," He nods at the signs of life across the parking lot and lingering around the rooms on the other side of the motel. "You see those people over there?"

A woman dressed in sweats and a stained shirt is leaning against the brick of the building. Her hair is thrown up in a loose bun and a cigarette balances between her fingers. Ellie sees the thick smoke billow around her. One of the room's doors is propped open, and a blonde man is disappearing and reappearing from the threshold while he carries tan boxes out to his little red car.

"Yeah."

 _"Awesome._ What I need you to do is let me know if anyone starts looking at us like we're doing some funky business. Do you think you could do that for me?" Sure, Ellie could. She enjoys observing people to pass the time. However, there is persistent clicking behind her and someone is coughing louder than what is comfortable for the young girl. She does not understand why they are at Bert's room, or how they are related, or why it even matters. Ellie just wants to lie down in a bed – maybe have a snack – and for Dean to take a shower.

"Dean, why would they think that?" She tries once again to see what Sam is doing but Dean still will not allow her to. Ellie catches Dean's green eyes and holds him there. "What are we doing here?"

Dean sighs. A car door slams. His eyes drift to the parking lot for a moment. "Listen, El, we think this might be Dad's room."

 _"What?"_

"Bert is one of the people we borrow from, so Dad would use his name to book this place."

The door to room ten shuffles open and Sam steps inside the darkness. Ellie stares at the blurry opening. "So, he's in there . . . ?"

"Maybe," Dean answers. He grows more serious to make sure Ellie is really listening to his next words. "But like I said, we'll find him, regardless."

An arm extends out of the black nothing and grabs Dean by the shoulder. Some of the dirt and dust particles on his jacket are roused from their nap. They puff into the air and sunlight. Dean is yanked backwards into the motel room with one quick motion. Ellie follows after him, taking hold of the door handle on her way through to gently close the door behind her.

With one simple sweep of the space, it is clear to Ellie that the room is _definitely_ a John room and not whoever they happen to be borrowing money from that week.

The inside is dark, and carries a musty smell from the curtains and windows being sealed tight. Books are scattered throughout. Some lie halfway open with the pages bent at angles and crushed under spines. Papers mark up each of the four walls partnered by weird scratches of symbols. The bed is unmade with the sheets lapping at the carpet; and the surface of it along with the side table are thoroughly cluttered.

Ellie steps over a thick salt line drawn across the floor. More line the windows. The room is overflowing like a sink and dripping of _hunter._ John is nowhere in sight.

Dean moves forward. A lamp twitches on. Bathed in the artificial light, Ellie watches Dean pick up a half eaten burger from the wrapper it crinkles against. He takes a whiff of it, only to recoil a second later. Ellie raises her eyebrows.

"I don't think Dad's been here for a couple of days, at least," Dean remarks. He throws the gross burger back to the table.

Sam crouches down. He runs his fingers through the salt line by the door, letting it slowly crumble back down. "Salt, cat's-eye shells – " he lists off. He gives Dean a look and stands back up. "He was worried; trying to keep something from coming in."

Ellie does not know much about the mechanics of the things the Winchesters hunt, but John had informed her years ago the first time she was left alone in a motel room that the salt tracing the windows and doorways is used to keep out bad spirits. She isn't one-hundred percent sure if it is true because the method has yet to be put to the test for her. However, it is comforting believing that what goes bump in the night cannot get to her because of a line of salt.

Sam and Dean begin conversing about the case and its relevance to John's findings. Ellie lowers the volume and lets their voices become background noise as she maneuvers around the room. Her eyes roam, longing to find anything that can directly tie back to the person she considers to be the father figure in her life. She needs to know that he is okay.

John's goodbye in New Orleans did not seem final. He said he had to go because of a lead in California – which isn't unusual – and he had hugged Ellie tight that evening, and moved her unruly bangs aside to really _see_ her, and told her with warm eyes to be _good._ It was all normal behavior – at least normal as can be for a hunter – but maybe the child had missed something. Maybe his eyes were actually sad.

All in all, John Winchester is surely good at hiding, especially when he has no intention of being found.

Ellie picks up a book and is smoothing over the smashed and bent pages when she catches some of the words being spilled into the messy room by the adults. Apparently, John had found the same article they had and they are taking the same steps with the case. The next one is to talk to Constance's former husband, Joseph Welch – that is, if he is even still alive.

"Alright," Dean begins and Ellie tunes in because his tone is different than just causal conversation. They're moving on or something is changing. "Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address for our Joseph Welch here." he says to Sam. "I'm gonna get cleaned up."

Ellie sets the book down and sits on the tangled up bed. It's not entirely uncomfortable. Dean goes to stride into the bathroom folded up in the corner, but Sam stops him by saying his name.

"What I said earlier, on the bridge – _I'm sorry."_

The nine-year-old knows that her overgrown brothers are unaware that she heard everything that went down last night on the Sylvania Bridge. Sam's apology is not meant for her, yet she still feels it, and takes it for what it is. Her head bows. She notices a stain in the carpet by her feet.

Dean holds out a hand to end it all. "No chick-flick moments." he states, coolly. He gestures Ellie's way. "Besides, I already get enough of them from that little bundle of joy over there."

Ellie pouts and rolls her eyes at the comment. She's not _that_ emotional.

Sam chuckles. He faces Dean again. "Alright, _jerk."_

 _"Bitch."_

The name calling is a sibling thing, or a Winchester thing – Ellie cannot be sure. Regardless, she hasn't heard it in years and the words alone are a warm brush over the base of her spine. It's a sound of home. Like the creaks of aging Baby, and Led Zeppelin playing on the radio for the three-hundred-and-twenty-sixth time, and John's voice, and greasy diner food sizzling on the grill, and people saying "thank you". Home isn't a house. It is things, items – sounds, smells, touches, visions, and tastes. The little things are what matter.

Dean dissolves when the bathroom door clicks. The pipes groan into existence. Sam pads up to the mirror that even manages to be messy and crooked. He straightens it and Ellie thinks he just wants to look at himself for a second; she does it sometimes when she hasn't seen herself in a while to jog her memory for what she looks like. She does not know whether or not she likes what she sees. It's just _her._

But Sam does not figure out who he is in the reflection of the glass. He plucks out something tucked in the side. Ellie feels the forgiving mattress welcome him when he sits down beside her. It's a picture of the four of them standing in front of John's pick-up on a cloudy day. The picture was taken by a stranger in the park as an excuse for an updated family portrait. It was back before Ellie started talking and her face is contorted into a lopsided smile.

Sam smiles fondly down at the captured moment in time. "Almost forgot about this one," His thumbs sweeps over the glossy texture.

The water is still on in the bathroom so Ellie takes her chance. _"Sam,"_ she forces out. He stops but the shower remains running. Her hand clutches the bed sheets and twists. "Why did you never call?"

Ellie watches Sam carefully when he places the photograph down. Her brown eyes greet his hazel ones for the first time in a long time. He grips his jean clad knees and drawls in a deep breath. "I – I wanted to, Ellie, believe me, I did, but – "

This is a topic Ellie feels strongly and deeply about, one she jumped up and down on for so long that it sank. She keeps twisting the sheets, and kicking out her feet, and whatever else she has to do to not cry right there because _she's not a baby anymore._ She croaks, "But what?"

"I couldn't." Sam swallows. "Every time I tried I thought about how mad Dad and Dean were that last night, and I figured it was better if I stayed away. For you – I – I didn't want to hurt you again. But, El, I didn't know that you shut down. If I did, I would have been there. _I promise."_

She bites her lip, hard, trying to understand. "Was it too much?"

Sam crunches his face. He leans. "What?"

Ellie's eyes follow the trail of everything littering the walls. _"This."_ Her head turns to the left, to Sam. "Sometimes, I get scared . . . And I – I wish I could make friends."

Sam rips his eyes away to crowd them in the corner. Ellie doesn't want him to feel bad, but she is only saying what she thinks. Her ears check to make sure the bathroom pipes are still bursting with life.

"I guess I just wanted to do something different, something for me. Maybe it was selfish, but I did think about coming back. Then I met someone."

"A girl?" This perks Ellie's interest. She had almost forgotten about the mystery figure left in the apartment who made her brother smile from ear to ear. "Dean said you had one,"

Nodding, Sam pulls his wallet from his pocket. He slides something out and hands it over to the girl. Ellie studies a smiling college student with straight teeth and blonde curls strung tight. Her fingers graze the corners of the creased wallet picture. "She's really pretty. What's her name?"

"Jessica. But I don't think she would mind if you called her Jess."

"Is she nice?" Ellie's head hobbles back up. "Because Dean's girlfriends aren't always. He made the last one leave because she was too mean . . ." Her voice has since turned contemplative as she relives how her eldest brother's last relationship crashed and burned. Her name was something with a "J" and she was very tall with glasses. She always wore some type of hat and Ellie believed she was nice at first, until she wasn't. Dean met her on one of those nights he comes home stumbling and weird. She didn't understand why Dean had to constantly babysit, and Ellie thinks she said something about her, but Dean still refuses to say. Ellie remembers Dean placing her in the passenger seat of the car and then disappearing around the side of whatever motel they happened to be living at. When he came back, he was alone, and they sat together in the car for a while as people moved around outside.

 _"I'm sorry, De."_

 _"Hey, who needs 'em? I've still got you; which is a hell of a lot better in my book."_

Her favorite was probably the college girl in Ohio from a while back, if Ellie could pick.

Sam's face breaks into a sad smile. "She's nice, Ellie." he confirms.

She's glad, and relieved, and wants to meet this Jessica. She smiles painfully tight without using any teeth. Her growing wet face presses into Sam's shirt when she hugs him like she did on the bridge. "I missed you so badly, Sammy."

He hugs her back just as tight. His lips press to her hairline. "I missed you, too, bug."

* * *

Ellie is perched in one of the chairs at the small rectangular table in the motel room. The ink in her pen scrapes over the white canvas in her sketchbook – which Sam went out to the car to get for her – while Sam sits on the edge of the bed with his legs stretched out to the floor and crossed. His silver cell phone presses to his ear as he checks his voicemails. Ellie can barely hear the rustles of whoever is on the other end.

The lock to the bathroom door unlatches. It swings open, knocking back against the wall in its motion. Dean manifests from the warm steam escaping from the bathroom walls. He is fresh faced with a slight pink tint to his skin.

Dean pulls on his jacket, one hand spiking up his damp short hair. "Hey, man," he announces himself, walking closer to Sam. "I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat from that diner down the street. You want anything?"

Sam angles the phone away from his head for a second. Ellie clicks her pen on her chin. He presses his lips together. "No."

"You sure?" Dean wags his eyebrows. "Aframian's buying,"

 _"Mmm-hmm . . ."_

Dean's hand snakes around the metal door handle. The air conditioner settled on the windowsill coughs awake. It doesn't do much besides blow a stale mix of hot and cold air. It's November, anyway.

"You want the usual, El?"

She nods, realizing just how empty and sunken her stomach really is. "Yes, please."

"You got it." Dean holds up a fist in which Ellie reciprocates. Even though they are at opposite ends of the room, they still pretend to press them together. The nine-year-old swears she feels a tickle of it, but then the door is closed, and Dean is gone.

* * *

Sam's phone rings when Ellie is midway through drawing small eyelashes on her sketch. She guesses she could be doing her work for school, but she just _happened_ to leave her backpack in the Impala, and there is still time to get it done since it is the weekend.

There are quips of dialogue from the phone conversation before Sam stands up. He seems worried, or distressed. Ellie closes her notebook because it could be about Dad, or Dean, or worse. The phone flips closed. Sam creeps to the window to peel back the lace curtain with a finger.

"Sam?" Ellie stands from the chair, curious. "What's wrong?"

Sam doesn't reply. He snaps the curtain closed after he peeks outside. His breath falters while he steps out of the way and uses the wall for cover. Ellie remains in the middle of the disarrayed room. She is confused, her eyes widening and mouth parting as her anxiety rises. She feels alone and vulnerable, and something clearly bad is happening if observing Sam's body language and the abrupt end to the phone call means anything.

Her brother notices her unhappiness and scrambles quickly to her. She feels slightly better when Sam takes a hold of her hunching shoulders. "Hey, it's okay. I need you to get your stuff together so we can go on a little field trip."

Ellie hears a bang from beyond the main door and her eyes jump there. She swallows. "Is it bad?"

 _"What –_ no, _no."_ Sam reassures. He squeezes her shoulders to get her attention back on him. His thumbs brush over her jacket, and his eyes look warm and sincere. "Dean just ran into some trouble and we need to go now, okay?"

There's a harsh knock at the door and Ellie jumps. Sam moves instantly and gathers up the notebook and pen on the table. He herds the nine-year-old into the bathroom and locks the door in any way that he can. The knocking is getting more persistent. Someone shouts. _Police._

The bathroom has ugly rose wallpaper and tan appliances. It smells dense and the space is compact. Ellie attaches herself to Sam while he frantically – yet collected at the same time – searches for an escape route. She blubbers out when he throws open a rectangular window on the smaller side that she cannot even reach, _"But – but he didn't even do anything . . ."_

Having left the rest of their belongings in the Impala, Ellie sees Sam drop her notebook out of the window. She hears a _plop_ follow it. He turns to her. "Okay, I'm gonna hoist you up. There's barely a drop,"

"But Dean – "

"Don't worry, Dean is fine. We'll get him out, but right now we need to keep going and be strong for him. _Can you_ _do that?"_

Sam sounds more serious than usual. Ellie is beginning to feel the pull in her chest for her eldest brother already, but she knows she can do this. It is not the first time she has dealt with an absent Winchester brother.

"Yes." she decides.

Sam lifts her to the window by her armpits. Ellie warily climbs through, but Sam was right about the drop not being high because her sneakers touch the soft grass in no time when she slinks down the wall. A bird flees the tree beside her when she picks up her stuff from the ground. She brushes off any dirt collected.

Sam squeezes through the window right when an echoing bang of finality sounds. Ellie guesses they broke the door down to find them. Sam scoops the young girl up in a rush and she wraps her arms around his neck, making sure to hang onto her notebook in the process, while her brother with awkward overgrown legs and hair sprints to the Impala dozing off in the shade.

* * *

 _November 2, 2005_

 _Just outside of Jericho, California_

Ellie cannot remember the last time – if there ever was a time – that Sam drove Baby.

He's not as experienced as Dean is with her. They slide around some turns and the brakes are pushed with a little more force than usual when Sam underestimates the size of the car, but Ellie gets to sit in the front seat, so she doesn't complain.

Besides, the ride becomes more smoother as they go on.

They stop for a quick bite on the way to their next destination. Ellie nibbles on the remnants of her fries while she waits in the car for Sam to return. He took them to Joseph Welch's new house, since he doesn't live in the one his kids died in anymore, which is logical. The place is more of a junkyard than where you hang your hat and Ellie can only guess Sam is freaking out from the grossness of it all.

It's not like they're doing much better, though. Burger wrappers and trash lie bathing in the sun up on the dashboard, skimming the windshield. Dean would go on a rant if he saw Baby's state, Ellie knows, but they were on the run. A part of the girl still misses her brother, still feels that tug on her heart, but Sam said he would take care of the situation, even if he did leave before.

Sam enters and falls into the interior of Baby. Ellie looks at him with a mouth full of fries. Some peer out and dangle from her lips. He smiles and claims that she is just as bad as Dean. She smiles back. Sometimes family can feel like swallowing the sun.

The Impala crawls away in the same way it came. Ellie notices Joseph Welch standing at the window. He looks older than time and a fire decays in his stare. There is definitely something there.

* * *

The night is a newborn baby when Sam's phone rings again. Ellie watches the looming streetlights dance on the car windows, even after they pass them.

"Hey, you're on speaker," Sam answers his phone. He guides the steering wheel with one hand now.

 _"Fake 911 phone call? I don't know, Sammy; that's pretty illegal. Even for you,"_

Ellie jumps at Dean's voice. She doesn't like when they break laws, but it cannot be that bad if it means that she gets Dean back.

Ellie's eyes are gleaming when they meet Sam's. He smiles smugly down at the phone. "You're welcome."

 _"Did you guys get out okay?"_ Dean asks. _"How's Ellie holding up?"_

The girl in question scoots down the bench seat to be closer to Sam so that Dean can hear her better. "I'm fine, Dean." she reassures.

 _"Glad to hear, sweetheart. Make sure Sam doesn't mess up my Baby too much, alright?"_

Sam rolls his eyes dramatically before they return to the empty blue-tinted road. Ellie grins.

"Okay."

 _"Awesome."_ comments Dean. His tone hardens into a shell. _"Listen, man, we gotta talk._ "

"Tell me about it," Sam agrees. Ellie tilts her head back to sit more comfortably in the seat. Sam caught her up on some of the new details of the case earlier. About how Joseph didn't love his wife enough and she acted out of anguish, killing herself and her kids. Now she is a sad, wandering spirit who kills anyone who hurt people like her husband did to her. Ellie hopes Troy loved Amy enough. Amy was nice and is missing him. "So, the husband was unfaithful and we are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that shoulda been Dad's next stop. I just don't understand why – "

 _"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?"_ Dean interrupts his brother's tangent. Ellie stifles a laugh.

"I just can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet,"

 _"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you! He's gone. Dad left Jericho."_

Ellie shoots up in her seat. What – why? Why does he keep running? Why won't he just answer their calls?

Sam seems equally as surprised. "What? How do you know?"

 _"I've got his journal."_

Ellie's heart drops. It must be something bad, then, because –

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam shoots her a saddening look. She shakes her head. Back to the window.

 _"Yeah, well, he did this time."_ Dark trees move by in a rush so they all appear as a massive lump. Maybe if another car actually drove by Ellie would feel better. _"It's the same old ex-Marine crap; when he wants to let us know where he's going."_

"Coordinates."

 _"Bingo."_

Ellie is distracted from the discussion when she senses something familiar. It starts at the tips of her fingers and toes, until it bolts to reach all of her. The feeling keeps going up to the point where the hair on her arms sticks on ends and the whole car is filled with static. She can see her own breath escaping her lungs, but once again she is not even cold.

She wants to warn Sam when she sees her but she's paralyzed.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Ellie hears Sam question, flabbergasted, when her ears come back into focus.

That's when he spots the woman in the road. Baby's tires scream against the asphalt as she skids to a stop. Sam presses his arm into Ellie's chest to keep her in place. She grabs a hold of his right hand tightly when they finally stop and doesn't let go. Her eyes squeeze open and closed, trying to catch her breath. Dean's voice calls their names from where the phone had fallen into the foot well. The line cuts off.

Baby rumbles around them. The street is vacant. An overhead streetlight bulb wobbles.

 _"Take me home."_

Ellie startles when she looks into the rearview mirror. She holds Sam's hand even harder. He is frozen at the wheel.

A woman in a white dress is in the backseat, half buried in the dark. The extreme paleness of her skin marks where she was drained of life.

It worked the first time to make her go away, so Ellie tries again, "Constance – "

 _"Take. Me. Home."_ She won't even look at the child. Her eyes are only for Sam.

Sam leans away from the controls. He stares her down in the mirror. "No."

Constance glares at him. Ellie hopes she will go away since they refuse to play by her rules. Instead, the passenger side door is flung open, and with it Ellie is removed from Sam's hold and the car by some otherworldly force. She spins out briefly across asphalt and stops when she hits the bushes on the side of the road. Sam calls to her, but the car door slams closed, and Baby starts driving away before anything can be done.

Ellie scrambles to her feet as fast as she can. Leaves and twigs are intertwined in her hair, and her clothes are wet and muddy. She breaks into a full on sprint after the Impala. She pumps her little legs as fast as they can go, screaming at Constance, at Sam, at the car, at the world – her bones and muscles do not stop until her throat burns, and she can no longer see right anymore. All Ellie can do is watch the red illumination of Baby's tail lights fade around the bend.

She cries at the road but of course it doesn't have the voice box to reply. The wind scatters carcasses of leaves across it but it's not the comfort she needs. Ellie's knee throbs and her pants are ripped there, but she is too angry, and tired, and missing so many people to care.

Ellie stumbles down the road searching for Sam. She can hear cicadas and the trees swaying. The sky looks like velvet.

Around the corner, a farmhouse models the end of the road before it splits off to another destination. It's a big, eroded, shadowy structure with boarded up windows of abandonment. The roof slouches, leaving the house's limbs dangling and ready to finally fall. The porch is broken entirely.

Ellie hears an unmistakable scream coming from the dark car in the semi-foggy driveway. She tries to dash up the pebbled walkway, but it skitters away from her when something grabs her. She wants to almost yell but stops when she sees who it is. _Dean?_

The smell of leather and soil stirred together with soap washes over her. "Sam – you gotta get him – he – he's in the car – " Ellie is all over the place.

Dean starts to leave and Ellie pivots, but then he steps back to firmly grip her arms. _"Don't_. _Move."_

Awful screams of pain and anguish continue to erupt from inside the Impala. It is the kind of sounds that make Ellie's skin crawl back the way she came.

BANG! Something gives way and shatters. BANGBANGBANG – Ellie digs her fingers over her ears when the gunshots become more frantic. It is like an explosion in her ear drum whenever one goes off. Her left eye twitches. The Impala lights up with each one, like a match trying to catch a flame.

They finally cease when Baby catapults through the front of Constance's old house, taking half of the building with her.

Ellie uncovers her ears and runs up to the farmhouse. She ignores the twinge of pain in her leg and follows Dean through the settling dust, and hot air, and swinging beams holding up the house. They enter through the car sized hole and Ellie realizes that Baby sure made a mess. Stuff is exploding _everywhere;_ worse than John's motel room.

The house is much darker than outside since it is enclosed, but the hole brings in enough light to see where the car finally ended its joy ride. There's a hissing noise either from the house struggling to hold its weight or Baby finally calming down. Ellie balances herself on a fallen beam while Dean yanks a very much alive Sam out of the car. She looks around to see what is left, and receives a quiet and less murderous looking Constance standing in front of the large staircase.

Constance stares yearningly down at the cracked picture frame she is holding. Ellie swears that the woman appears alive for a blimp before she notices them. Her face contorts back up and the picture frame smashes on the hardwood floor. The lights flash on from Constance being a walking source of static and electricity, and they crackle and pop violently.

A bookshelf slides by itself with ease across the floor to pin Sam and Dean to the side of the car. They double over in pain and try to push it away, but it is unmoving. Ellie stands her ground but she has no idea what she should do.

Water beings to unexpectedly pool around the girl's sneakers and she backs up a step or two to escape it. Casting her eyes upwards and staring through the tips of her bangs, Ellie notices that the water is pouring down the staircase and overflowing at the sides. She is confused because Constance is not doing it, until she sees the silhouettes of two little kids standing at the top.

They are holding hands and chorus, _"You've come home to us, Mommy."_

Constance materializes at the foot of the stairs, seemingly distraught. The children vanish and then reappear soaking wet behind the woman. When they hug her, Constance shrieks violently enough to break a glass, like their touch alone scorches her. It is unbearable. Her head throws back, twitching all over. Flashing lights reveal mangled and disturbing images and limbs. It doesn't stop until the three of them melt into the floor, only leaving a small puddle behind, possibly caused by a leaky roof. The floorboards groan and sigh in their wake.

* * *

 _November 2, 2005_

 _Thirty miles from Palo Alto, California_

Constance could never go home because she was too scared to face what she had done to her children. Ellie can never go home because she doesn't have one.

Troy really did die and she won't be around to tell Amy that. Amy will just have to keep printing out her missing persons posters, and listening to her boyfriend's voice when her calls get directed to his voicemail, and looking at old photographs. Eventually, people will stop caring about the boy who went missing on the Sylvania Bridge, and then she will, too.

Ellie will remember the horror in Constance that was released when she finally was put to rest, how it looked painful. She hopes that the woman can go home now.

The windshield is cracked, and makes trees bend forward and the road seem glassy if Ellie looks directly through it. Baby had to be pushed out of that house to finally stir awake and now she runs languidly with a few loose bodied sounds. Only one headlight works.

Ellie seeks comfort in the front seat between her two brothers. Dean doesn't even make her wear a seatbelt, but Ellie thinks those are the pity points that she racked up during this soul shattering case talking. She has _never_ been this involved before. The Impala is supposed to be safe, but this time it wasn't enough.

Dean has the regular radio on. A soft rock song mumbles through. Ellie's chin tucks in her knees while she leans her right side on Sam. She can feel the tight pull of the band-aid on her left knee scratch against the ripped, blood stained material of her denim jeans. Turns out that the asphalt bit her knee when Constance kicked her out. Dean cleaned it up before they got back on the road.

Sam is a sleep warm and flows like a tide as he breathes. Ellie curls up to him like a cat, lazily dangling a flashlight from her hand to enlighten the map crinkled in his lap. He uses a ruler and a finger to follow the lines and dips in the paper. The coordinates John left for Dean to discover sit open by Ellie's foot. She gets a glance at them whenever a stray string of the moon breaks through.

"Okay, here's where Dad went," Sam announces, causing Ellie to awaken at his shoulder and steady the flashlight. "It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

Unlike California, Ellie has been to Colorado before. Maybe she will encounter people other than strangers.

Dean nods at the road. "Sounds charming," he comments. "How far?"

"Uh . . . about six-hundred miles."

Six-hundred miles almost sounds like an eternity to Ellie, considering she does not even know how long it takes to drive one mile. She needs a shower – she smells like sweat and terrain – and could use a nap, or a snack, and definitely a bathroom break soon.

Dean turns his head for a second. "Aye, if we shag ass, we can make it by morning."

If Ellie really thinks about it; though, at the end of a really long day, she just wants to see John again. She just wants them to be a family again. She is tired of pictures and hand-me-downs to fill the emptiness.

Sam falters. He opens and closes his mouth. Ellie loses track of where her light is pointing. "Dean, I – uh – um . . ."

Dean concludes, "You're not going," The young girl sits up. Her legs slowly lower to the floor. The flashlight clicks and darkness overcomes.

"The interview's in, like, ten hours. _I gotta be there."_

Dean drives with one hand to rest an arm on the back of the seat. Ellie is aware of him squeezing her shoulder. _"Yeah."_ He shifts in his seat. "Yeah – whatever. I'll take you home."

Even Sam has a home.

"I'm really sorry, Ellie." the younger of the two brothers says, helplessly. Dean rubs Ellie's shoulder, all the while his eyes stare hard at the road and through the crack in the windshield.

She almost believed that Sam had changed his mind.

* * *

 _November 2, 2005_

 _Palo Alto, California_

Dean does not park in the back alley. He slinks along the curb of Sam's apartment complex to come to a final halt in front of the entranceway withholding red double doors. The building is dark with sleep.

Ellie stirs. She reluctantly let's go of the arm she was warpped around while she dozed off. The cushion her head is pillowed on leaves in a swing. Ellie scoots into the remaining warmth on the leather that marks Sam's once presence.

Sam closes the car door gently. He leans in through the open window. A nine-year-old grabs at his fingers.

"You'll call me if you find him?" Ellie feels the vibrations of Sam's question through his hands. She is trying to hold on to him for as long as she can. He wants to be updated on Dad, which is a start for mending relationships.

 _"Sure, Sammy,"_ Dean replies. There is something else in his voice that Ellie just cannot pinpoint. Maybe he is sad; too, even if he never cries like she does.

"Maybe I can meet up with you guys later, huh?"

"Yeah, alright,"

Sam places his free hand over Ellie's and the other hand she is playing with. _"Hey,"_ She flicks at her bangs to see him better. A streetlight highlights the right side contours of his face. "I gave Dean my new number so feel free to call me whenever." He looks over Ellie's shoulder to the other person within the quiet car. "It was a mistake to not answer before."

Ellie is so excited of the possibility of talking with Sam on the phone that she nearly misses the end. The engine turning over, Sam giving Baby a good pat, Sam stepping back on the sidewalk with his bag pressing on his hip. "Goodnight, bug,"

Baby moves away at an agonizing slow pace. Ellie's world tilts when Sam begins to appear slightly smaller. He runs his index finger over the bridge of his nose.

Her heart swells. She does it back. That's _their thing,_ like with Dean and a fist bump.

Ellie clips on her seatbelt because she doesn't have much of an excuse anymore. She drapes her arm out of the window. Everything is absolutely frozen and silent except for Baby's engine.

Dean speaks when they turn onto a residential road with big houses and white-picket fences that Ellie thinks about on occasion, "Looks like it's just you and me again," Ellie looks at the outline of herself in the side mirror. "So, I was thinking – "

The radio cuts him off when it glazes over in static. It begins beeping as dozens of voices at once try to come clear over it. Dean pokes at his watch.

Ellie doesn't have time to think before he screeches the Impala into a U-turn and guns it down the way they came. It is not as frightening when the girl is for certain that Dean is controlling the car instead of a vengeful spirit. The seatbelt jabs Ellie's gut when Baby slams into the same spot they were parked at earlier.

Dean grabs her chin. _"No matter what you hear, no matter what you see, do not leave the car."_ He has never been that grave before. Dean pushes out of the Impala with a final jab. _"Stay here."_ Ellie feels like she's going to pass out.

The building swallows him.

* * *

Ellie is six-years-old watching her house crumble to ashes in the night. Dirty tears cake her rosy cheeks. Flashing lights and sirens as firefighters attempt to smother the blaze; concerned murmurs and droopy eyes from the neighbors standing on their damp lawns in robes and fuzzy slippers. The air fills with smoke. She can feel the heat licking her skin while it makes her face glow. She leans back on a car, nothing could be saved. She can no longer speak.

No – that's not right. Ellie is nine-years-old and it is Sam's apartment. She is not crying. There is still the regular crew and audience of a fire, but the smoke isn't as bad. The car she is sitting on is Baby and she can talk. It was Jessica this time.

Dean and Sam are at the trunk. She hears clicks.

A monotone: _"We got work to do."_ brushes over her back.


	7. Chapter 7: Where the Wild Things Are

Chapter 7: Where the Wild Things Are

 _November 9, 2005_

 _Just outside of Grand Junction, Colorado_

Sam isn't the same. That much Ellie knows.

His fingers twitch more and his back is set straighter. He is restless instead of sleep. Guarded. Angry. He smells like perspiration rather than coffee. His mouth is held tight a lot.

There was a funeral. A hunchbacked cloud of black under a dying cherry blossom tree. It didn't rain but Ellie felt like it should have that day. Sam attended clutching lilies tight to his chest because Jessica always claimed roses were lame. He wore a suit as dark as the smoke hovering over the apartment that night. Ellie watched adults cry from a distance inside of Baby with Dean, hugging the curb. Sometimes she forgets that older people can express emotion in that way. She hardly sees it.

The Winchesters spend a week in Palo Alto only to find ashes, what little of Sam's possessions that actually survived the fire, and a dead girl who hardly scraped the bottom of her twenties. Ellie notices when the setting stops being a home for her brother; skin thrumming with distrust and dark dust curled in the soles of his boots. Sam makes the call to skip town when he cannot bear to look at the faces of it anymore. He isn't leaving his siblings again. This is what Ellie wanted but she doesn't think she wanted it to happen in _this_ way.

Sam hasn't really been sleeping. At least, when he does it is mostly sweat and teeth. Which is why Ellie is not exactly surprised when he jolts awake in the passenger seat, blinking rapidly at the volume of Metallica filling the car. Dean restored the Impala back to her former glory after the house fiasco in California. From the back seat the nine-year-old observes Dean glance over at Sam in brewing concern before accelerating forward to conceal his break in speed. The trees fly by at a faster rate.

Sam grabs at his face and rubs his eyes. Dean asks if he is alright. The answer is yes. _Always yes._

Ellie feels the bass of the song through her fingernails when she places them against the window. A slash in the reflection reveals the green of pines. A somewhat eaten box of Lucky Charms sits by her feet. A cooler is at the opposite end of the bench seat acting as her road trip companion. Her bag is a presence at her left thigh. Sam clears his throat a few times, still distraught.

A car passes on the other side of the road, vacuumed up in a tight ball of sound. Ellie considers getting out her Game Boy, but the battery is almost dead, and it will not be much fun for long. She could draw, yet she shoots down that idea as well because the terrain is too uneven and her hands don't quite have it in them at the moment.

"You wanna drive for a while?" she hears Dean ask Sam to break through the wavering nightmare. Ellie moves around in her seat. Dean is very protective of the Impala and she doesn't even think he will even let her drive the car when she comes of age. The only time she can recall Sam driving Baby was after Dean got arrested.

Sam chuckles in short gasps. He does a double take. "Dean, in your whole life – _I don't know, twenty-six years?_ – you have never once asked me that."

The youngest Winchester watches the oldest's face closely. He seems serious enough to her. This is what he does when things get shoved down in the gutter really badly. Back when John was still around he had one too many drinks after a failed hunt left three innocents dead. It wasn't a pretty sight walking through the motel room door and hovering in the four walls. Dean took Ellie out of there and he let her get two ice creams from the stand at the local park. _Two!_ She also got to pick the music on the trip there and back. She ended up giggling like a manic to her brother's reactions when she purposely put on music Dean hated. If she did throw up in a plastic bag later on it did not affect her emotional state any. The stomachache was worth it all.

Dean purses his lips and shrugs. "Just thought you might want to," His eyes touchdown on a mirror to check it for a moment. _"Never mind."_

"I mean – _seriously?"_ scoffs Sam, disbelief still holding onto him. Ellie looks on as he shifts to view Dean and her both. "Look, I know you guys are worried about me and all, and I get that, and thank you . . . _but I'm perfectly okay."_

Ellie reaches out. Her hand clasps and then unwinds itself. She slinks back from Sam. It's a bold-faced lie and she knows it. Usually he's better at these – at least tries to sell it – but with the bad dreams, and restless eyes, and flat voice, it just isn't enough for Ellie. Her eyes mix with Dean's in the rearview when he checks in.

"Mm-hmm . . ." Dean bites down on, eyes returning to the road. _He knows, too._ His chin dips. The road sighs. Ellie lets her eyelids fall when the quiet comes.

Paper snaps back against itself when its spine breaks. "Alright – " gurgles Sam before chasing away the thing that seems to keep building in his throat when he choses not to use it. "Where are we?"

Ellie opens her eyes. Sam is holding the Colorado state map. It's bent weird from sleeping on the wrong side in the glove box for too long; worn thin. Routes are traced in marker and places circled here and then – random numbers added up on the side.

"We're almost in Grand Junction," Ellie answers with her eyes glued to the outside world. There's so much green, soft and pure green. Colorado has tall, tall mountains with jagged edges and snow dusting at the top. She wonders what it feels like to be at the top, if anyone down below could hear you if you screamed.

"Look at you reading your road signs," she hears Dean's praise. He knows about her reading struggles a bit and assured her it would go away with time. _Every kid has trouble._ Ellie hopes he is right because it hurts sometimes. Road signs aren't as bad for her because she sees them a lot. It's only painful when they go by too fast.

Ellie shrugs, keeping her gaze to the closed window. "My Nintendo is dead."

Dean chuckles. "Well, at least you're honest, kiddo."

The map hisses under the mumbles of Sam's touch. It is stressed, and frustrated, and agonized. "You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon." He sounds as far away as the mountains to Ellie; had not even been listening to the conversation before. The child cannot help but be confused by his words. He was the one that made the final call to pack up and pull up stakes in his college town. The Jericho gloom had moved over Stanford College and Ellie was antsy to get away from it as well.

In the end, college – the apple-pie life – it returned Sam Winchester with the tag still attached. Spit him right back out. Jess' death hit Sam, _hard,_ like any heart that snaps and spins into the empty. Ellie put up walls when it came to the topic, but she doesn't think going back would do any good. Sam might not come out as anything at all from it.

Dean reminds Sam that they overturned any stone they could for a week straight in Stanford. There was nothing besides what they already knew. The mission now is to find Dad so they can figure out just what is going on in the hunter world. Ellie misses him. She could use his voice at the moment, or a smell, smile, his truck – Words that she cannot read in the journal he left behind is not enough and his coat on Dean's skeleton only prompts what is gone.

"Dad disappearing," begins Dean. The nine-year-old can almost feel the change in temperature as it stiffens and falls directly on her. Dean is checking to see if she is tuning into this little family talk. Her shoe knocks over the cereal box on the floor mat but it is not a big deal since it is sealed shut. _"And this thing showing up again after three years?_ It's no coincidence." Her eldest brother attempts to speak within her sounds of movement to conceal the words true meaning, yet the ugly part stays shining through. His volume returns to normal once when the hard part is over. "Dad'll have answers, he'll know what to do."

John will. Ellie knows. When it comes to hunting, precision balances on his blade and he is as thorough backwards as forwards. Everything is planned until the very end and John always plays an active role in it. She can't say the same about at-home life, though.

Sam expresses huffing confusion towards their destination – _this Blackwater Ridge_ – because it is stranger than the average plagued-with-monsters kind of town. Vibrations of vehicles pass on the left. A smoke stained squirrel twitches on the road's shoulder. Ellie listens intently from behind her brothers.

The fact of the matter is the town is not even a town at all, it is nothing. There are no houses, or stiff people pretending to be okay, or white-picket fences. Dad's coordinates point to the source of the problem. The woods, trees so tall they're monsters themselves, the lack of substance existing in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

 _November 9, 2005_

 _Lost Creek, Colorado_

The ranger station of Lost Creek National Forest is a structured shred of civilization in an otherwise airy atmosphere. People roam the parking lot and some are even sprinkled within the building when the Winchesters enter. The three of them drift and seek out different points of interest in the aged-importance fragrance of the National Forest's history.

Ellie stands at a table in the middle of the room. A three dimensional map of their location balances on the surface. She touches the outline of the bumps and dips indicating a change in elevation. Her fingers climb a mountain.

Sam sides up to his sister. She easily accepts his company, happy that he is showing signs of life, but at the same time carrying some apprehension because she is unfamiliar with the symptoms that indicate pulling back inside himself. Ellie wants the real Sam for as long as possible. She wants to anchor to him forever. It's the only way she can think that things can get better.

"So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't have a lot of people, meaning that it is pretty remote," Sam explains with his voice kept in a bottle between the two of them. Ellie recognizes that this is what he used to do when she was much smaller and alone. He would always lie things out on the table and make sense of each step, describing the mechanics of it all. It made things less scary and easy to transition through. She clung to his words.

Sam places his right hand over his younger sister's to guide her through the relief map. "It's cut off by these canyons here – " They circle a protruding section. "Rough terrain, dense forest . . . abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place . . ."

His voice leaves with his touch. Ellie frowns when he sighs into the pretend forest.

They are surrounded by hurt.

 _"Dude!"_ Dean's voice is wrapped in bewilderment. He is standing on the other end of the floorboards, facing something fastened to the wall. "Check out the size of this friggin' bear,"

Ellie walks to him with Sam in tow. She squints into a picture frame to see a man who looks tiny compared to the grizzly at his feet, which takes up the rest of the image. _No way._

The young girl moves back some. Her head turns to her eldest brother. "Is that real?"

Sam's presence becomes louder as he shuffles into new space. His arms are crossed.

"Don't know," Dean shrugs. "Looks real, though,"

"You kids aren't planning to go out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?"

The Winchester siblings whip around at the intrusion of the new voice. Ellie feels her heart leap but it goes back down soon enough. An older man – who she perceives as a ranger by his uniform and authoritative stance – lingers about a quarter way into their room. He cradles a coffee cup with tired eyes.

Sam stutters from Ellie's left. "Oh, no, sir." His smile is as artificial as the lightbulbs screwed into the lamps. "We're Environmental-Study Majors from CU Boulder." His hand rests on Ellie's shoulder. "I brought my little sister along because she's interested in all this stuff, too. We're just working on a paper."

Dean raises his fist to add to their cause. "Recycle, man." He chuckles but it falls flat. Ellie's eyes drift to her shoes.

 _"Bull,"_ the ranger calls. Ellie goes stiff. Her eyes rise. He takes a step closer. "You're friends with that Haley girl, right?"

 _Haley? Who's Haley?_

Ellie does not know any girls named Haley. Unless it is another one of the secrets all the adults like to keep from her. She is confused and starting to fall out of the façade her brothers had set up for her. Dean rolls with the punches; though, causing her to not completely let go. He admits that they know Haley. His delivery is a little sloppy because he has to search for the ranger's name – _Wilkinson_ – and Ellie gets it. They do not actually know Haley and never did. Ranger Wilkinson mistook them for people they are not and they're going with it because sometimes when you want something really, really badly _you lie._

And she wants any intel as to why Dad sent them to a place where people don't live.

Ranger Wilkinson paces back and forth with his coffee through the artifacts and tiny particles of Earth. His feet talk to the floor in creaks. "Well, I will tell you exactly what I told her," he talks like he knows them from around _wherever._ Perhaps Ellie should know him, or at least act like she does. But playing pretend just isn't as fun when no one knows that she is only kidding. It's harder to break out of it. "Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth. Today is the ninth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?"

Dean shakes his head. "No, sir."

Ellie is having trouble understanding why this Haley girl would be worried about her brother when it is not even close to his return date. Then again, Blackwater Ridge is full of dark patches and _longing_ can leave painful bones. Ellie knows. Dad has ben MIA for weeks and Sam is not at full participation level anymore.

"You tell that girl to quit worryin'. I'm sure her brother's just fine."

Dean promises that they will. Ellie watches Ranger Wilkinson begin to fade like all of the other people they talk to briefly for information. She thinks about all of the friends she could have if her family would just stay for once.

Her oldest brother adds, "That Haley girl is quite a pistol, huh?"

Ranger Wilkinson stops and turns. He scoffs. "That is putting it mildly,"

Dean grins. His feet skid on the worn wood. Murmurs from other bodies in another room envelope the building. "Actually, you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date."

The Winchesters settle back into being someone else like a second skin.

* * *

Dean laughs out into the open air when the door clicks closed behind them. The paper glares at itself when he folds it into two and bounces it off the cuff of Dad's jacket. Ellie hops down from the porch. She walks ahead past the old trees and a man pulling out fishing poles from his pick-up.

 _"What – "_ Sam's voice sounds irritated from beyond her head. "Are you cruising for a hook-up or something?" Ellie crinkles her nose and walks faster. The terrain goes flat and hardens when she hits the parking lot. She breaks out into a jog, half surprised that Dean does not yell at her to wait up so he can make sure a car doesn't get too close, or something else she no longer needs because she is not six-years-old anymore.

Ellie's hand curls around the door handle when she reaches the Impala in a rush. She bounces on her toes and waits for her brothers to catch up so Dean can unlock the doors. She looks at someone walking through the grass and a car backing out of a spot.

Sam and Dean are deep in conversation when she gets dragged back into what she could not run far enough away from.

"The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for?" questions Sam. "Let's just go find Dad – I mean, _why even talk to this girl?"_

He sounds too much like he did on that bridge when he spewed out all those ugly words Ellie was never supposed to hear. Something filthy crawled down his throat and is co-pilot of his bones. Death is what brought it to town. She hates this. She pulls on the handle but Baby is still locked.

Dean shrugs, mouth open and brows pulled together – trying to understand. _"I don't know._ Just maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk in to it . . .?"

Ellie yanks at Baby again, becoming somewhat desperate. _"De – "_ her voice breaks in frustration. She mentally kicks herself for acting what she swears she is not.

Dean looks at her apologetically. He easily unlocks and pops open the door for her. Ellie scrambles into the car without looking at anyone. The door slams from her own doing but she is barely aware of it. Moving the cooler aside, she crawls to the opposite side of where she normally sits – now behind the driver's side instead of the other – to get as far away as possible. Her head falls on the window and her eyes go to the lifeless car beside Baby.

 _"What – ?"_ Like diving headfirst into ice water, so cold it is painful.

Dean sighs. Baby does nothing to block out the truth. "Look, man, I know that you're hurting and you're upset, but you don't have to make her feel that way, too. The kid's been through enough," Ellie keeps having to hear everything about who she is secondhand. Sam's aching is starting to become hers as well. "Besides, since when are you all 'shoot first, ask questions later', anyway?"

There is a huff. Ellie feels cold.

"Since now."

* * *

Lost Creek is a decently sized town. Rustic type buildings located in the town's center offer many options. The neighborhoods are quiet. The people act nice and unsuspecting of any danger from the wilderness that is coiled around them.

The Winchesters stay in a stuffy-old type of hotel that is more like an apartment building with how many floors it has, its crowdedness, and no elevators included. Ellie can detect the peaks of mountains from their third floor window. Her brothers depart with heavy words about what to do in case of a scenario deemed an emergency. Ellie takes the instruction with half attention because she has heard the speech before from multiple entities. She knows what being alone means and how it feels. There is no explanation this time for her presence to be along with Sam and Dean while they speak to Haley, and she finds herself okay with it. She watches cartoons and works on school assignments as the light outside dwindles.

When Ellie's brothers return all light has turned artificial and shadows have hit a growth spurt. A baby's cry blares like a muffled alarm from a few doors down and something upstairs slams shut.

The three Winchesters slink out into the night through the narrow, dim brown hallway. Ellie can see her breath out in the cold and her nose trickles to her lips. Dean takes them to a diner and they sit in a booth that is in a separate area from the open bar. It is about eight in the afternoon and the diner is in full swing. Loud rock music plays, adults are laughing with bear bottles in hand, and Ellie can hear the occasional rack break of pool table balls. The atmosphere reminds her of Dad.

There is a small bowl of peanuts in the center of the table – more so for decoration than anything, considering how long they had most likely been sitting there – which causes Dean to get fussy since Ellie is allergic. They have to get the table wiped down by an employee and Ellie rolls her eyes at the ordeal, yet she does have traces of gratitude within her soul for not having to admit that she left her EpiPen in the hotel room like she normally does, even though she is supposed to have it on her at all times.

Ellie feels warm from the amplitude of the building. She is sure that her cheeks are stained in pink. The nine-year-old sips on some water – biting the end of the straw a bit – before she wiggles out of her heavy overcoat. She leans into Dean. He smells like food and leather.

Sam sits on the other side of the red booth, quiet for the most part. He pulls out his laptop while they wait for their food, which by the amount of people among them, could take some time.

Sam begins explaining while the laptop boots up, "So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic; local campers and hikers mostly. But, still, this past April, two people went missing out there." He slides a piece of paper Dean's way. From where her head is pillowed on her brother's shoulder, Ellie is conscious of Dean's muscles sliding under skin as he reaches for the square of white splashed in bold print placed in front of him. "They were never found."

The material Sam presented is a newspaper article. Ellie examines the headline with Dean; she is a little more slower at putting it all together, but gets it, nonetheless. The documentation makes the situation all the more real. Sam gestures to the article receiving the attention. "If you take a look at that it explains that in 1982 eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said that it was an apparent grizzly bear attack."

Dean makes a noise that is caught between his teeth. He looks up. "You don't believe that?" The newspaper article is placed back on the table where it returns to its home in Sam's personal archive for cases.

Cheering erupts from the pool table. Clinking of bottles and laughing follows.

Sam's eyes gravitate towards the noise. "Maybe. But it happened again in 1959, and again, before that, in 1936." Two more papers with grueling backstories appear on the table. Sam presses his pointer finger down into them to emphasize his words. "Seems to be every twenty-three years, just like clockwork."

A pattern can go a long way in a hunter's line of work. Ellie is glad that Sam is starting to show interest and acting alive again. It could mean that he actually might _want_ to be here, in this life, with Dean and her. Finding Dad is everything but this is a step forward.

Ellie pushes out of her relaxed position against Dean once Sam angles the laptop – which is covered in multiple stickers – their way. When Sam and Dean went to Haley's house to speak with her about her brother, she gave them the last known video of Tommy. Her worries were due to the fact that Tommy checks in every day by sending in little videos, but recently he had stopped without explanation. With their parents being gone, it is only Haley and her siblings, so they all have to look out for each other. Ellie knows all too well about crucial reliance.

Sam keys through a video of Tommy talking to the camera, the background being the interior of his tent. He has to do it a few times for Ellie to notice what is out of place. There is a shadow against the tent, as there are many in the hollowness of the night, but this one actually _jumps_ in and out of frame. It is fast. And moving.

"That's three frames. It's a fraction of a second, but whatever this thing is, it can move." declares Sam.

Dean hits Sam playfully on the arm. Ellie smiles into her lap. "I told you something weird was going on!"

"Yeah, yeah." Sam rolls his eyes. He focuses on one particular document. "I got one more thing, though. In '59, one camper did survive the supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid around Ellie's age – he barely crawled out of the woods alive."

Dean takes it. "Does he have a name?"

* * *

 _November 10, 2005_

 _Lost Creek, Colorado_

There is definitely something in the woods of Blackwater Ridge. According to the witness Dean and Sam interviewed before bed, it is something of evil intent. Ellie does not know if that is entirely true. The Californian woman in white, Constance, was a lost spirit full of so much anger and grief that it ended up affecting those alive. She killed people; though, and that is supposed to be bad – _evil._

What came into Ellie's house three years ago was true darkness, true evil. That _thing_ dripped of everything ugly with black veins and yellow eyes, leaking from the ceiling until the whole house burned. It was paralyzing. Any monster she has seen since has never made her feel the same way she did that night, nor does she think she will find it in the forests of Colorado.

Which – after a long, heated discussion and the realization that leaving a child alone for days is different than hours – Ellie is granted permission to accompany her brothers this time around. They grumble about how mad Dad would be if he ever knew what was taking place, words stuffed in the Impala when they glide out of town. Ellie is lectured – without any radio – a good portion of the way to the ranger station. The young girl is given very, very specific instructions about what to do at all times, which, in her terms, could basically be summed up as: _never leave our sight. Ever._ Not really much new there, though.

Ellie does not see the ordeal as an _ordeal._ She sees it as _camping._ And she has never been camping. John never saw the good in it. Too many monsters, too open.

Crunching up the driveway to the station, Ellie plays with the ends of her hair sticking out from her braid. Dean jabs over his shoulder a mixture of: _"Hey, I worked hard on that."_ along with _"Now with Sammy around we can practice new hair styles on him, too."_

They rumble to a stop and the engine cuts off under a canopy of trees. Jagged sunlight patches bounce off of the hood and windshield. There is a brief moment of hesitation as the car settles back into herself. Through the glass, Ellie stares at the three people they parked in front of, who are blatantly looking back: a girl, a younger boy who only appears to have a few years on Ellie, and an older man. They all carry hunching packs and seemed equipped to head straight into the backcountry. The man cradles a rifle that Ellie eyes warily when she swings out of the backseat, lugging her own bag behind her.

Car doors close carefully. She allows her brothers to step forward while she lingers back a bit. Ellie twists her bag around her to sit comfortably, kicks around at the tiny pebbles by her toes.

"You guys got room for three more?" asks Dean, approaching the strangers. Ellie was unaware that they would have company on this trip.

The only woman of the three stands before them, curly brunette hair and authoritative presence. Her hands are on her hips, but there is something in her eyes that does not look necessarily agitated, amused, maybe. They have met before, not Ellie, but her brothers did. This is how people manifest themselves when they are seeing someone for another go. _This must be Haley._ "Wait – you want to come with us?"

Dean produces an almost award winning smile for how unlike him it comes across. He swings a leg forward. "Sure do."

The man with the gun asks Haley who Ellie and her brothers are to them. Ellie begins walking towards the front lines so she is not as much of a shadow.

Haley pivots on her heel to twist her body back. A grin catches at the seams of her lips. _"Apparently,_ this is all that the park service could muster up for 'search and rescue'."

He scoffs, leaning back on his heels while tapping his gun. His eyebrows raise in question, regarding the newcomers more closely. "You're rangers?"

Dean nods, answering, "That's right." Ellie stops at his side. Sam continues on ahead past them with his duffel being an annoying weight on his shoulders. Ellie watches him go.

She finds herself being pointed at. "Then why do you have a little girl with you?"

Dean slings his arm over his sister's shoulders. "This here is one of the girls from the local Girl Scouts. She's working on earning another badge." Ellie gives a hesitant thumbs up. She smiles tight-lipped.

Haley persists with the questions, looking at Dean, "And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Ellie glances down at herself. She is wearing knee-length shorts with a sweatshirt to balance everything out in the crisp weather, and boots fit for a rougher kind of terrain. She thinks her outfit is fine. Her brothers, on the other hand . . .

"Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't do shorts."

With his arm remaining strung across Ellie's form, Dean herds her down the path towards Sam, who is waiting. Her eyes are trained at her feet when they pass by the younger boy, who has remained quiet the whole time.

Shuffling around, boots kick up more pieces of the Earth. Ellie tries not to let a laugh slip at the discussion of her brother wearing shorts. It doesn't help that when she locks eyes with him he is smiling. She snorts and stumbles. Dean pinches her shoulder. Ellie shoves him off. The whole interaction is much louder than intended since everyone is watching.

"You think this is funny?" harshly challenges the man who Ellie has come to conclude she is not very fond of. He gives her a patronizing look that she hates and the smile slips right from her. "It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt."

Ellie turns away, feeling wrong and aggravated. Her head ducks. Dean places a hand on her back in reassurance. He sounds irritated. _"Believe me, we know how dangerous it can be._ We just wanna help them find their brother. That's all."

He tugs Ellie ahead of Sam, muttering through the footsteps and grass. "Don't worry about that jerk, El, he doesn't even know what's out there. _You're fine."_

For what it's worth, Dean's words help, but they do not know what the evil in Blackwater Ridge is, either.


	8. Chapter 8: Gone Camping

Chapter 8: Gone Camping

 _November 10, 2005_

 _Lost Creek, Colorado_

The woods breathe in time with the wind. Unrestricted vegetation brushes against ankles and exposed, bruised kneecaps in an invitation to wrap around and drag any able body straight into its thickest part.

About thirty odd minutes go by in silence between people. The trees; however, creak from old age, their limbs snapping occasionally. Animals speak to each other in a language no human understands.

Ellie is beginning to tire. Her shoes suddenly seem tighter and her backpack is heavier than before. Maybe Dean stuffed something inside when she was not aware of her surroundings. She feels a deep-rooted hotness. Sweat prickles the skin underneath her heavy shirt. The young child aches and is going to need to stop soon. At least long enough for her feet to feel real again.

Wanting to cover more ground in somewhat of a timely fashion, Ellie swings forward to skip a couple steps ahead. Her hands reach up to grip the straps on her backpack to relieve some of the pressure. She is careful to stay well within eyesight and earshot of both of her brothers, remembering clearly the serious, low type of lecture she was given in the car.

Ellie's boots dig deeply into softer dirt when an unfamiliar, hard-hitting touch uses her backpack to yank her backwards. Particles scatter around her feet. She feels like the wind got knocked out of her, but it doesn't hurt as much. Her breath is conscious in her ear drums. Ellie remains still in confusion but she is also aware of the want to move away that is further out in her brain. She is thinking slowly now and trying to assess the situation.

Gurgles of movement and sound travel right over Ellie's head. There's something at her fingertips, just out of reach.

"Whatcha doing there, Roy?" asks the nearest apparition she cannot quite place yet. The tone is demanding with a tint of cool for balance, or youth. _Dean._ Ellie wants him. She takes calculated steps backwards until the hand on her slips. Roy is looking at her all mean-like with hard eyes and a twisted up face. It's as if he is seeing her for the first time again. She knows she is not supposed to hate anyone – besides the true evils of the world, not the outcasts and misunderstood of the monsters they hunt – but she might, really actually might, hate Roy. Ellie won't say it out loud, but she thinks he is a jerk face. Dean was right.

Roy bends down and picks up a walking stick from the trail. He jabs down and the piece of wood is broken in two by something once flat that springs up on contact, much like a crocodile. Ellie blinks at the suddenness of it all and the noise of the contraption overtaking the stick. The crocodile of the woods is a bear trap. It would have instantly snapped her ankle.

Roy smiles up at the pair of siblings, mockingly, "First rule of the wilderness, kid. You should watch where you're stepping," He stands and looks to Dean. "Then again, I'm sure your rangers told you _all about_ that one," Roy forges ahead with a spring in his step. He is still on the path but the trees look like they want to eat him alive. Ellie almost wishes they would.

The rest of the group stalls for a moment. Dean cranes his head back, blinking up. He purses his lips and swallows down all of the words in his mouth. Ellie knows he is holding back. A bird dives by them. Someone kicks a rock and it skitters down Roy's way.

With a steady yet careful hand, Dean reaches for his sister and guides her towards the back of the line. Passing Haley and a miserable looking Ben, Ellie notices something in their eyes that she knows wasn't there when they first broke ground on the walking path. _Doubt._

He stops at a sulking Sam weighted down by their duffle. "Stick back here with Sam," Dean smooths out everything Roy had ruined with his harshness. When Ellie turns to face him he catches her eyes. _"Like glue."_

Sticking her chin out, Ellie nods under her bangs. "Like glue."

"Good." Dean ruffles her hair. They keep moving.

Ellie stays beside Sam. She feels weird about the encounter with Roy but it is fading fast. As long as she doesn't have to be close to the man she will be okay. She tries not to look too hard at the bear trap when she toes over it.

The youngest Winchester grounds herself by taking hold of Sam's hand. His larger hand easily encompasses her own. Their duffel bag and her backpack bang against their bodies as gravity pulls them down a small hill.

Ellie bats away any bugs attempting to attach themselves to her sweat-pricked skin. Her upper body is mostly covered by her sweatshirt but her legs are not faring as well. It is unusually warm for Colorado in November; she thinks so, at least. Perhaps it is the evil energy in the woods that follows her family wherever their work leads them, heavy and foreboding. Or it could just be a heat wave, which happens from time to time. Where's the fun in that, though?

To prevent her shrinking alertness from collapse, Ellie swings the arm she has attached to Sam exaggeratedly to be longer and slower. Sam doesn't say anything about it. His arm goes dead, turning into almost a noodle.

The touch of Sam is different than Dean's. It is softer and light; used to running over pages of books and computer keyboards. Sam is hopeful and dreaming and bursting with the desire to learn more, want more. Now he feels hollow and Ellie fears that he only hopes to get away from their cracked family for another college, in another state, with another girl. His dreams are only "based-off-a-true-story" nightmares of the first time he got what he wanted.

Now that he knows the feeling, perhaps he can become conditioned to it. Reset the game. Start over. Leave again. _What's another heartbreak, right?_

"Do you not want to save people anymore?" Ellie asks her brother without a second thought. Of course, the idea in itself is untrue. Saving people. Hunting things. It is the family business, after all. Ellie doesn't think Sam wants anyone to die. She wonders if she could stick her finger through where they are joined at the palm and feel nothing inside him but maybe some loose dirt. This kind of life takes the family out of the business. It took Jessica.

Ever since they reunited Ellie feels like she can only make Sam exasperated, or at a loss, whether it be for words or people. He looks the same way he did when she asked in Dad's old motel room why he never picked up a phone for her in three years. Children are immune to the perplexity of adult emotions and their mouths run like streams. Sam is drowning in the flow of his little sister, and there is not much air to breathe in the tight and possibly cursed forest. He has to take two steps forward to catch up to Ellie; his arm being stretched out as she kept trekking along unbothered when he slowed to process her question.

"Of course I want to save people," Sam confirms. Ellie hops over a large tree root that managed to fight its way to the surface after quickly deciding that balancing on it like a beam would probably not be the best idea. She uses Sam to keep her steady over the unpredictable terrain. _"I tried – "_

His voice stops. The cursor blinking.

"You seem mad." states Ellie, matter-of-fact like, even though she is not aware of such a concept. All she can think about is how cold he feels even though there was a fire in California and it is hot today. He seems disinterested in the case and its people. Ellie likes that part of hunting more than others because everyone is so different. Sam's voice keeps going up in times it shouldn't and she dislikes that.

Ellie says because she doesn't want it to happen again, "I'm sorry about Jessica."

Sam didn't want to be in Colorado since Dad isn't and Ellie understands that, but for a different reason. He shakes his head. "No, Ellie, I'm sorry. The way I've been treating you and Dean – I shouldn't." They fall into step. Ellie's eyes scan over the figures of the four people walking along the path in front of them. Sam is right. _He shouldn't._ "You guys are worried, I know, but it's not your fault. Sometimes, things are just hard."

They are. Ellie agrees. The tough-love concept reminds her of Dad. She misses him an awful lot. Sam probably misses Jessica in that way, too.

She stops. Looking up at her brother, she smiles, "I hope you can be happy again, Sammy."

Ellie lets go of Sam to walk ahead by herself. "C'mon, we have to make sure there aren't anymore bear traps," She is perfectly in his line of sight this way. It isn't as glued together as Dean instructed, but Ellie thinks of it as a stretchy glue.

When she glances back Sam is staring at her as if she has all of the answers to a question he never asked.

* * *

 _November 10, 2005_

 _Blackwater Ridge, Colorado_

It doesn't take long for Haley and Ben to see through the Winchesters' paper thin façade, but when they do, it does make things a bit easier on their part. Ellie is glad because lying is bad and – _oh – Roy doesn't know_ so he is at a disadvantage.

Blackwater Ridge is marked by a large rock protruding from the ground and absolute silence. Not even crickets. The whole world came to a standstill and they are stuck in the thick of it.

John does not clamber out of the woods and neither does Tommy. Roy goes up ahead even though advised not to by Ellie's brothers. Ellie sips uneasily from the water bottle Dean hands her. He nudges her to sit on a tree stump. Ellie plops her backpack in front of her to let her knees cage it in. She wonders what Roy knows so much more about for him to disregard her brothers entirely. They keep her safe. Then her fingers find one of the many rings on the tree stump while she sets the water bottle down, and her wondering switches to how old the tree could be.

Ben takes a seat near Ellie. He has earbuds in and she can kind of hear crackles of a tune and a voice if she pays hard enough attention. She smears her palms across her face and under her bangs to wipe some of the sweat away. Ellie drinks more from the water bottle because John always stressed hydration.

Dean, Sam, and Haley are hovering around. The forest is deadly quiet. Ellie becomes aware of Ben's music again.

Ben takes the earbud closest to Ellie out. "Do you want to listen?" he asks, hesitancy in his tone. His fingers roll the loose headphone around. The young girl realizes she must have been staring for him to ask. She didn't mean to. His music was just the only noise for miles.

Ellie nods. Shuffling closer, she takes the offer. Ben is older than her, a teenager at most, and Ellie has not had a chance to figure him out yet. She hasn't heard him talk before now, but in the Winchester line of work, kids either talk too much or barely at all. Ellie has been on both sides of that fence.

The song is not bad. It is rock but not as harsh as Dean's can get. _Softer._

Ellie starts, carefully, "My brother listens to . . ." She searches for the terminology. Sammy said it once. _"mullet rock . . .?"_ Her statement sounds more like a question than she intended it to. Ben chuckles. His body lifts and huffs. Ellie tilts her head. _Confused. Is it supposed to be funny?_

A shout bundled up in the nothingness is almost as startling enough as a gunshot. Ellie jerks her head away as a reflex. She accidentally kicks the fabric of her bag. Her eyes and heart blow up as if they are balloons; she feels like her limbs might pop from the rush. The dainty earbud pathetically swings from where she abandoned it.

The sound was calling out to Haley. They jump to their feet, snatching up any belongings in the process. Dean presses Ellie back, looking onwards, and as a warning to what comes next. Sam leads her by the arm and it's scary, but they still go.

They crash land at a campsite. What is left of one, anyways. The tents are dismantled and ripped open with supplies dripping out; they lie flopped over and bleeding out like wounded animals. Based on the haphazardly puzzle pieces scattered around, it looks like whatever tornado came from did so screaming in the contrasts of the silent forest. It was searching and hunting. Ellie thinks they might have found what they were looking for based on the spray of red on the whites of the tents.

There are no victims, but she smells them anyways; what her brain thinks they would smell like, at least. Someone states that the scene looks like a grizzly attack. The nine-year-old thinks about the picture of the giant one in the ranger station. She steps back and fades. Ellie doesn't want to do this anymore. She wants to go home. She wants the Impala and mullet rock and the open road. She wants Lucky Charms. Dean has a small baggie of them for snacks stashed in the inside pocket of Dad's coat but she wants some straight from the box. She wants good noise and John. _She wants –_

"I don't want to go camping anymore." Ellie think-talks. She wants _not this._ Almost anything but.

Dean crouches down to his sister's height. There is movement under his skin when he reaches for the shoulder straps of Ellie's backpack to hold her there. It's different than Roy. _"Hey,_ don't look at that – look at me, okay?" Ellie already is looking at him because he is too tall to see over. She isn't _really_ looking at him; though, so she tries that. Dean doesn't look sad or angry, or any of those things Ellie and Sam were feeling. He just looks like _Dean._ "Remember what I said?"

Ellie thinks. Dean says a lot of things. A decent amount are serious things that she is supposed to somehow stuff into that part of her head that _remembers,_ but sometimes there just isn't enough room. She goes with what is most recent: "To stick like glue."

"Right. And that nothing bad is going to happen," Haley is yelling for Tommy before Sam hushes her. It is a brief distraction. "Whatever is out there – it is going to have to go through Sammy first, but, _more importantly,"_ His hands give a small squeeze to Ellie's frame. "it's going to have to go through me. And trust me, that is not a battle any drooling freak is going to win. Not if I can help it."

Ellie shows that she understands. It helps to believe. Sometimes it doesn't. It all depends on the circumstance. She believes in Dean because he never left.

Dean stands on creaky bones. He isn't old but hunting hurts. He gently guides Ellie out of the confines of her backpack and away. "Walk with me, okay?"

They walk down the quiet trail buzzing with electricity from the new campsite discovery. There are indentations in the dirt. Dean follows them – tracing with his eyes – until there isn't anything left. Ellie doesn't see any footprints. It is just crater-like disturbances. Dean calls for the missing Winchester.

When Sam breaks through the tree line he is loud and breathless. He slows when he sees them. Branches crack under his shoes while he approaches.

The three Winchesters huddle around the marks in the forest floor. "So, the bodies were dragged from the campsite," Dean declares. He points. "But _here,_ the tracks just vanish." A noise creeps up in the back of his throat and Dean unfolds. "It's weird. I don't like it."

Ellie grabs at lumps of dirt that have not been touched by missing bodies since she is close to the ground. If the evidence is off-putting to Dean then she is even more worried. Him or Dad always know. Sam is quiet while Ellie continues to poke around in the dirt, so Dean adds, "I'll tell you what; though, it's no skinwalker or black dog."

Ellie releases the particles of earth from her fists. It is under her nails at this point and she can practically taste it, but it is nothing a motel bathroom can't fix. She looks up at her oldest brother. "What's – what's a _skinwalker?"_ The word feels funny to say when it sloshes around in her mouth.

"It's a witch," Sam explains, simply, "Only instead of staying human most of the time, they prefer an animal form. Skinwalkers can turn into whatever animal they want to."

Ellie comprehends about half of the definition. She knows what werewolves are from seeing them in movies before. Dean claims they are different in real life and Hollywood sugar coats them, but Ellie is not so sure how different. As far as the general public is concerned, werewolves do not exist. She pictures them uglier, or something. "So like a werewolf?" She backtracks, squinting upwards. "But with all animals?"

"Kind of, yeah."

Ellie thinks for a beat. A man-bear doesn't seem correct. "What about that huge grizzly bear in that photo?" She knew it was too big to be completely real.

Dean softens. "I think that might of been one of a kind, sweetheart. And even if it was a grizzly skinwalker, I've seen their work, and this isn't it."

A shrill cry of help bursts through the gaps in the trees. The vegetation is clumped so the shadows run together to create a dark pit, but there are still cracks. Ellie copies her brothers movements, stretching her legs until she is standing at her full height. She wipes the wet dirt from the forest floor off of her exposed knees. The sweaty and itching feeling, courtesy of the environment, has not subsided.

Dean and Sam have not moved yet. It sounded like that person was in trouble. This is what they are supposed to do, what Dad said – _save people. But they're not doing anything._ Ellie is confused and maybe angry, but not really. She doesn't know the word for it to make sense in her brain. Should she tell Dean –

The voice makes a second appearance. Louder. More desperate and drawn out.

This time the adults break into a sprint towards it. Ellie follows suit with Ben. She feels bad for making the person wait, especially if it is Haley and Ben's missing brother behind the voice because they could get mad that they had to go a few more seconds than necessary without Tommy. It's just, _no one did anything_ right away. Perhaps they didn't hear it as clear as she did the first time. Ellie learned from somewhere that kids hear better.

A few branches shoved aside and hard landings from jumping over logs later, everyone halts in a small clearing. Roy uses the scope on his rifle as binoculars to scan the area. Dean is carrying a small gun Ellie doesn't remember him having before. She doesn't see Tommy, or John, or anyone for that matter.

"It seemed like it was coming from around here," Haley observes, warily, _"Didn't it?"_

Sam spins around suddenly. His breath is stuck in his throat, eyes wide. He approaches Ellie and offers her his hand while still analyzing their surroundings. Ellie takes his hand, confused. Whenever her family becomes clingy in the midst of a hunt it is because something is wrong. Sam announces that they need to get back to camp.

The shredded campsite is a surprisingly brisk jog away, even though the original distance from it felt much longer. Upon arrival, it is obvious something had been altered in their absence. Everything that was once theirs is gone, replaced by empty air and a dying camp.

Ellie releases Sam's hand to walk over to where she had left her pack. The others filter in quickly and begin mourning what they lost. At least they have houses to go back to with all of their other things inside. Ellie lives out of her bag. It had everything she ever owned in it besides the few things she keeps in the Impala. While she toes around in the trash left behind, she remembers that her Game Boy was in her bag.

The storm swirling in Ellie's head is partially expressed through Haley's exasperation, _"What the hell's going on?"_

Ellie cannot be sure. She only knows that something came through and stole her belongings, just like it stole the people who were here originally.

Sam seems to have a better idea of everything. "It's smart." he answers. "It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help."

"You mean _someone – "_ Roy steps in, correcting Ellie's brother. He cradles his rifle like a comfort. "some nut job out there just stole all our gear." Ellie remembers that Roy is the only remaining person left in their six person group to be unaware of the secrets; the monsters in the woods, the magic . . . He probably wouldn't believe it, anyway.

Ellie did find delight in Roy's lack of knowledge about the Winchesters' day job. However, now she thinks, in a very isolated way, that he could be in the same headspace as them. She really hates that thought the second it forms a bubble in her mind; though, because she does not want to have any similarities to Roy, but Dean and Sam do not know what the monster of the week is this time around. Even if Roy knew what Dean had to awkwardly fumble around to explain to Haley and Ben because they were caught in a lie, he still wouldn't really _know._

Sam wants to speak with Dean, in private. Ellie knows that it is code for "grown-up talk" towards something she can't know about. She made a pact with Baby last year, stretched out in the backseat and waiting for Dean and John to return, that she would never grow up. Adults can lie, even though that is bad and she can't, and they have way too many secrets. She would explode if she had that much information in her brain and was unable to release it. Ellie has a decent track record for not leaking the real family business because her brothers have a habit of speaking for her in public scenarios when her presence makes sense, or she is alone. The interior of Baby and motel walls have heard more of her whispered truths than any actual human being.

Yet, she has no problem withholding information from Roy. People like Roy are always an exception.

Ellie stares down her brothers in hopes to catch a piece of a secret. Sam looks around again at the other frustrated siblings poking around in the trash, at Roy angrily waving his gun around, at the bloodied tents Ellie is slowly getting desensitized to. He orders them to have an exclusive family meeting away from the crime scene of the camp and Ellie is glad. He leads Dean and Ellie back to where they found the disappearing tracks.

Once Sam is certain they are alone, he speaks, _"Okay._ Let me see Dad's journal – "

Dean presents the requested object. He seems curious. Sam begins filtering through the pages.

Ellie has never seen beyond the leather-bound cover of John's journal. She has always wanted to, but John didn't exactly leave it lying around for a little girl to read as a bedtime story. That and the fact that he never went anywhere without it. Until now.

Dean and Sam are talking about the contents of a certain page in the journal. They are being vague about it, taking into account the presence of Ellie. Her brothers are too tall and bunched up for her to see much of anything. It doesn't even help when she stretches up on her tip-toes, arms out to balance wobbly legs. The nine-year-old begins to twist around in her spot with boredom. What's the fun in coming along if she can't even know anything?

She starts to doubt that there is actually anything in John's journal because her brothers are discussing nonsense, that's what.

 _Win – Windaygo? Windegoes?_ Wind – _whatever_ – she has never heard of before. She doesn't say anything out loud about it because she is afraid that her brothers will then lower the volume once they figure out she is listening. Dean argues that the creatures aren't even in Colorado, or something.

Besides, Ellie cannot remember witnessing John ever write anything in it. More and more information just kept piling up in the growing, worn pages until the journal was bursting at the seams. Like the mysteries of the Colorado woods.

She knows it is wrong to doubt and Ellie doesn't believe that she does, _really._ She just misses John lately. But she is thankful for the Winchesters she does have, she swears so. The whole thing is just a sore subject and his goodbye in Louisiana wasn't a "goodbye forever" type.

Dean takes Ellie's full attention out of her head when he sighs and sways some, defeated. He holds up his gun and thumps it down against his thigh. It is useless, apparently. Ellie feels more on edge now.

Sam presses Dad's journal into Dean's chest. The forest floor huffs as he takes two steps towards the way they came before stopping and spinning around.

He leans into Dean, and Ellie hears it loud and clear this time, _"We got to get these people to safety."_ Sam's tone is serious, not as serious as when Dean slammed the Impala into park outside of Sam's apartment building because Ellie is convinced that nothing could ever be more grave. He points down, and his eyes request attention, and while the younger of Ellie's brothers walks away, all the signs are there that Sam means what he says.

This case is more than a troubled, lost spirit; a woman in white. And Ellie guesses that whatever it is, it can do more to hurt people than take control of their beloved car.


	9. Chapter 9: Even Superheroes Need Saving

**I blame college as the reason for me not updating in forever. It's hard to want to write outside of the classroom when it is my major.**

 **Also, apparently there is a character limit for chapter titles so I can't fit the last word.**

* * *

Chapter 9: Even Superheroes Need Saving Sometimes

 _November_ _10,_ _2005_

 _Blackwater Ridge, Colorado_

"De – " Ellie gains her brother's attention after Sam's withdrawal.

"You know how Samantha gets," he chuckles, withering some. "Total drama queen."

Something is stirring in Ellie's stomach. "It's bad, right?"

Dean mulls over the potential intensity of the situation. "Well, wendigos aren't the worst thing in the world," He turns and takes a step towards his sister. The forest wakes beneath him and grumbles. "But they can be a real mean son of a gun."

Ellie agrees. She thinks that wendigos – whatever the term fully symbolizes – are mean. It is wrong to judge, but she can't help but hate them; even though she has yet to come into contact with the creature. "It stole my Game Boy."

Dean dissolves the space between them, seeming to comprehend what the little girl needs without her vocalizing it. The noise that bubbles in his throat gives off the impression that he thinks the same way Ellie does. He crouches down with his rusting limbs and holds the edges of Ellie's wrists that are draped in her sweatshirt. "You know what? They are the worst."

What the nine-year-old sees in his face is enough to make her believe that she could speak a different language and he would still understand. After everything, Dean is a constant Ellie does not want a break from. When promises shattered around her feet and people left, he remained. Dean stayed.

She is starting to believe he might stay forever.

* * *

Sam is unkind and dark again. Ellie does not like it.

He _almost_ lets it slip to Roy who they exactly are. Sam yells and pushes and shoves. He's just so angry. At the world, at Roy, at Dad, at the wendigos, at Colorado, at Dean, at her – Ellie does not know the exact root of it. She only knows that he is hurting. She wishes she knew how to make it stop.

They are staying the night in Blackwater Ridge. Haley will not leave the scene until Tommy is found. Ellie gets that, but she is hesitant because according to Dean, these monsters are even better hunters at night. A part of her misses the hotel room with thin walls and an ugly, stained carpet. She mourns simple cartoons and people watching. However, she will not let her thoughts slip because then her brothers will never allow her out of the four walls again.

Dean draws a circle around their camp and carves symbols into the dirt for protection. Roy thinks it is funny for some reason. Ellie consumes as much of the snacks and refreshments they packed that her fluttering stomach will permit. The animated fire in front of the child tugs at her bones and illuminates Ben and Haley's somber features. Sam is sitting away from them with his hunching back turned. He faces the blue-black night.

Whatever it is that is making Sam perform mental summersaults, rendering him too dizzy to be with his family, is something he certainly does not have to trudge through alone. It is the Winchester way; apart and together. Both ways. Ellie watches Dean join their brother. She wants to follow him but there is no invitation to. Ellie is also supposed to stay in the light. They are on the edge of falling into the hungry dark.

Her brothers are having an adult conversation. She finds it odd that she cannot hear them like she could from the car while they were outside. Even words are suffocated at Blackwater Ridge.

A wailing cry for help crashes the party. Ellie immediately bunny hops over to Sam and Dean and into their "adulting", not caring if her actions are reckless. The fire is still reaching out to her, but it does not matter. Her brothers are her light, anyways.

The voice continues to ricochet off nearby trees like bullets. It is begging for help with cracks in its vocal chords. Pleading that the Winchesters do their job: _save_. Ellie finds it difficult to do nothing because it sounds so _human_. The confliction is not overpowering; however, because she is afraid. Her heart aches from its fast pace and her limbs shake at their ends. Besides, wendigos can copy human voices in order to attract attention. Dean told her so and they experienced it firsthand when it was still daytime. It is one of their many talents, apparently; along with theft.

Ellie jitters around her brothers as they access the situation. Sam pans his flashlight over the surrounding area. The trees somehow look larger in the concentrated light when compared to the wispy flames they were bathed in before.

The awful sounds continue in random bursts. Ellie twists and turns before Sam steadies her with his free hand and holds her there. She tries to remain within herself but quickly spills out again once she hears a distinct click from Dean's gun.

Dean must be attentive to her reaction – _he_ _always_ _is_ – because he attempts to break the tension with his voice, "It's trying to draw us out," he explains. Ellie meets his eyes. "Just stay cool. Stay put." Her eldest brother looks and sounds calm. She feels herself leveling out because of it. Sam's arm around her helps, too.

"You mean inside the magic circle?" chuckles out Roy even though his body carries zero traces of humor. He does not believe in what Dean sketched out in the dirt to protect them before the night fell upon them. Ellie still does not understand why. She is getting a lot of mixed messages. It's annoying.

Growling erupts from the darkness. The underbrush dances as something darts back and forth within it. Ellie spins and slams her head into Sam's chest. Her nose hurts from the impact and she tastes the material of her brother's hoodie. She doesn't want to see.

Gone is the human approach from the wendigo; at least that is what Ellie believes the monster to be. It is replaced with animalistic screeching, pounding on trees and ripping vegetation from its roots with a touch. Ellie does not want to look but it is also scary to not have that sense to her disposal. The fear she is experiencing is different than what Constance stirred in her gut. This feeling is urgent and rapidly throbbing in her ears. She wants to climb to higher ground, sprint away as fast as she can, and shatter into a million pieces. Constance's presence paralyzed the young girl and turned her soul to ice. At least ghosts are predictable.

Ellie could scramble up under Sam's skin. She springs up onto his boots and puts her weight on his toes when a gun begins firing. She is faintly aware of Sam trying to smooth her out with his voice and her feeling a strong wave of gratitude for him swirling in her heart. Haley shrieks, Roy announces that he hit the wendigo, and then it is quiet once more.

Breaking out of her Sam cocoon, Ellie notices Roy is gone. Dean repeatedly calls out to the missing man, anger splashing into his sound. Ellie cannot necessarily say that she is upset about it. Roy had a sour attitude. He was not exactly on her list of favorite people, or even favorite people from cases.

Dean and Sam are leaving to look for him.

Ellie chokes up. "No, no, no – _don't_ _go_ – " She doesn't want them to leave her.

Dean regards her, gripping her arms, "Shh, El, it's fine." he assures the nine-year-old. "We'll be right back. Stay here and don't leave the circle." he finishes with a gentle squeeze to Ellie's limbs. She watches intently, foggy-brained and half hoping that he will change his mind, as Dean sets a stick alight by brushing it through the campfire. He passes it over to Haley. " _Keep her safe."_

Blackwater Ridge is so famished it instantly devours Ellie's brothers the moment they exit the circle. She can't see them because the foliage is so intense. She wants to see now.

"C'mere, honey," Haley directs the girl to exist behind her larger form with Ben. The torch flickers in pity. There is no more noise except for their breathing.

" _Please._ " Ellie whispers into Haley's spine. She does not know if the word is for her brothers, or herself, or anyone, really. Maybe it is for someone she cannot see or will not meet for years to come. She pleads for something, anything, in life.

When Dean and Sam come back empty handed after a terrifying four minutes, Ellie hugs them extra tight. She doesn't think Roy is coming back. She doesn't know if she is upset about it, but Roy could have someone like Amy was to Troy back in California who will be forever missing him. For every Amy there is a Troy. Everyone knows at least somebody.

* * *

 _November 11, 2005_

 _Blackwater Ridge, Colorado_

Ellie ends up passing out somewhere during the odds and ends of the night. She did not mean to but her sleep driven brain pulled her down under regardless. She wakes smelling of moss and sweat with the sun peeking into her eyes. Dad's coat is draped across her – courtesy of Dean. Since Ellie is only nine, she doesn't feel the full blast of the repercussions from sleeping on the forest floor, back pressed against the bark of a pine tree. There is a distant soreness, but it is fleeting.

However, her hair is not fairing quite as well. The braid itself never had much substance since Ellie's hair is only beginning to stretch below her shoulders, but now there is hardly anything to it at all. Her light brown hair hangs in lumps and any baby hairs have completely abandoned their mission. When she untangles her hair with stubby fingers it stings her scalp.

The five of them eat what they can manage and take turns going to the bathroom; which Ellie concludes as the worst camping activity in the world after Dean forces her to at least try to go. She talks back to him over it and he lets her get away with it, unlike John. She feels kind of bad about it. She didn't mean to. Never does. Some feelings are just too strong to reign in and she must be explosive and sharp.

Her brothers update the group on wendigo lore. Ellie tries to gather what she can from it but some of it still flies out the window. The short version is that wendigos are monsters because a person ate another person – _gross_ – which makes them less human over time. Guns and knives are useless for defense against wendigos, which is why Roy did not have any luck. The secret weapon to combat a wendigo is fire; more specifically a Molotov cocktail to disintegrate the monster entirely. It is why Dean armed Haley with a torch before Sam and himself left to look for Roy. Tommy could still be alive because wendigos like to play with their food, since they need it to last. Wherever Tommy is, it has to be quiet and dark.

They set out when the sun is at its highest, trying to suppress the fuzzy dark as much as possible. Though, shade from the trees is permittable to touch. After a while of walking, Ellie does not see much of a difference to where they were before or an end to their journey.

Sam halts once he takes a few steps into a clearly marked new section of the forest. Ellie is happy that they finally got somewhere but the distinction between these trees when compared to the others is disturbing. Each tree has a crisscross slash in them from what seems to be claws. Blood runs down from the marks, settling into the ridges of the bark and staining it crimson.

"Should we keep going?" Ellie asks her brother, unsure. The two of them are at the head of the pack and Sam spares her a glance as Dean, Haley, and Ben enter the branded area.

"Dean," begins Sam, "these claw prints are so distinct and clear. They're almost too easy to follow."

Blackwater Ridge suddenly explodes into life again. The howling and gusts of wind tearing at the foliage like a tornado return. Something heavy drops from a tree. Haley screams and Ellie practically trips over herself trying to scramble back away from the object. _It is Roy._ Nothing is left encased in him because it is spilling out on the forest floor. Blood topples over itself. Rushing away.

Ellie disliked Roy, but she didn't want him to die. Not really, anyway. She feels sick and floaty.

Dean pushes everyone away from Roy and further into the blood branded trees. They flee the crime scene. Ben is closest to Ellie and she slides to a stop when he loses his footing and tumbles, rolling across the ground on impact. She wants to ask him if he is okay, but Sam is there to help Ben stand before she can get the words out.

Another scream causes Ellie to whip her body in the direction it was thrown out of so swiftly she almost falls, too. Her brother puffs out an " _oh_ _no"_ before he sweeps up the nine-year-old's hand in his and they are running again. The only thing to greet them when they arrive at the source is a beer bottle with a white rag sticking out of the top. Dean's Molotov cocktail is so neatly placed – distantly mocking them – that Ellie wants to kick it over. Sam picks up the carefully crafted weapon and yells out to their absent family member. Ben calls for his sister. There is no answer on the other end; just like all those calls Sam did not pick up while he was in Stanford and John had been missing for weeks.

Ellie wants to shut down again. It is how she always feels when Dean is away, like everything could leak out of her. She mournfully stares at the Molotov cocktail in Sam's hand.

"I don't understand." admits Ben. "If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?" He sounds defeated and lost. His arms hang heavy.

" _Honestly?_ I think Roy pissed it off when he shot at it." Sam builds some sort of a rationalization. Ellie turns away from the two of them, fighting off the urge to cry. Her eyes lock onto her sneakers. "Wendigos thrive during the night so it is uncommon for it to show itself in broad daylight. I think it was trying to prove a point."

Ellie figures Sam must have caught on to her distress signal because she hears him approach. At least, she thinks it is him because the footsteps sound the same. He attempts to get her to look up, or turn around, or something because " _they gotta get moving if they are going to find Dean"_ but his words only sound underwater and miles away.

When Ellie does tilt her head slightly in the direction of reality, she catches something colorful in the endless sea of green. "Sam, look," she says, pointing at the ground a few feet away.

Brushing past, Sam crouches down and picks up a tiny rainbow. He chuckles for what his lungs can manage. "Ellie, this is better than breadcrumbs," He presents M&M's. _Dean's_ _M &M's. _"They must have gone this way." Locking eyes with his younger sister, Sam runs a finger over the bridge of his nose. " _Great job, bug."_

Ellie happily returns the gesture. She is filled with a new sense of determination. Dean saves her everyday just by being present in her life. This time she gets to save him.

* * *

The trail of candy tampers off at the bottom of a steep drop off. Ellie, Ben, and Sam carefully slide down. Brushing the dirt off that did not get embedded into their clothes, they face an eroded gate covered in moss. There is a sign on the front. Ellie does not have the time to sit down and pick the words apart to make sense, but she does formulate "DANGER". It does not look good.

Sam nudges at the wooden door and it splits in two without complaint. He pokes his head in the stale darkness beyond the gate. When he resurfaces, he shrugs at the kids and reaches for Ellie's hand. She doesn't want to go in there, but if it means saving Dean, it is all the reasoning the girl needs.

Once inside, Sam takes out his flashlight and toggles it on with the hand not attached tightly to his sister. They start walking down what looks like train tracks to Ellie. She sniffles in the heavy congestion of the tunnel.

"Looks like a mine," Ben comments. Sam agrees. Ellie glances back at the boy until she is tugged forward again. She half wishes she could get to know Ben better because right now he feels only _there_ in the background. He is nice; though, and he let her listen to his music.

There isn't much to see in the area. Everything appears in browns and grays through the illumination of Sam's flashlight. That is, until a growl slithers down the tunnel. Sam presses Ben and Ellie to the wet wall. The rumbling continues as a gigantic figure materializes at the entrance, backlit by the sunshine.

Ellie feels a spike in her brain and her brother releases her to slam his hand against her mouth, catching a scream between her teeth. He shushes Ben who is squealing in the back of his throat. Air forms in clumps in Ellie's nostrils, quick and featherlight. She tilts her head back to rest on the wall when the creature leaves.

There is not time to process the unearthly encounter because the floorboards beneath them give one last creak before they give out entirely. Ellie shrieks when she feels herself free fall. She spins out at the bottom of the pit. If she is hurt, she does not feel it yet. Her skin is jumpy and prickly as she takes notice to a couple skulls by her face. She kicks one while crawling over to Sam.

Ellie grabs a hold of her brother's hoodie, rustling him. " _Sammy . . ."_ she coughs out.

He sits up immediately. Sam presses his palm to her right cheek. She feels a combination of hot-cold and stuffy. "Hey – it's okay, _it's_ _okay._ We're alright." he reassures her, whispering.

Ben scrambles to his feet and shuffles away from the skulls. Sam peels Ellie's bangs from her forehead while she says, shakily, "There's bones over there."

His fingers come back from her sticky skin with faint red dots. She stares at the liquid substance, borderline horrified.

"It's just a scratch," claims Sam, bringing his lips into a painfully tight smile. She hopes so because the wendigo stole their medical kit.

The Winchesters are interrupted by Ben breathing Haley's name. Their attention pivots to identify Dean and Haley on the back wall of the cave. They are hanging limply by their wrists; the ropes bounding them are attached to the ceiling. Thankfully, both adults wake after a few good shakes and pleas from their family members. Sam cuts them down.

Ellie is at Dean's side when Sam shuffles him across the space and slowly to the ground. She kneels in front of him. Dean groans into a heaving laugh from all the movement. His face is covered in dirt and scratches. Ellie regards him sadly because he seems to be in a lot of pain.

"I found your M&M's." she tells him.

Dean smiles, grunting out, "Look at you, sweetheart," He swallows. His voice is raspy from the cruddy air. "You're a real hunter, huh?" He coughs and winces. Ellie doesn't feel like one. Dean is hurt and all she wants to do is go back to the Impala.

"You sure you're alright?" Sam asks, standing over his siblings.

" _Yep."_ Dean bites down on his lip, rearranging his body against the dripping wall. "I will be, anyways. Where is the ugly freak?"

"It's gone for now."

A commotion breaks out in the cave the moment Ben and Haley spot their missing sibling; the last piece to their family puzzle. He is buried even further back than Haley and Dean were. Visibly dead bodies dangle around Tommy. The stench hits all at once, making Ellie's eyes water, along with the realization that they are encircled by corpses in all varying stages of decay.

" _Ellie."_ croaks out Dean.

She returns her attention to him. "I – I thought that the win – the wendigo got you – "

"No way!" scoffs out Dean. "It's gonna take more than a wendigo to defeat Batman."

Tommy gasps awake and both of his siblings erupt into joy. Ellie is thankful he is alive.

Dean reaches over and begins poking through something on his right. Ellie becomes aware that it is their packs and supplies. She guesses that it makes sense that the wendigo would keep everything in one place. He unzips her backpack, rummaging blindly around in it for a moment, before beckoning Ellie to come closer. He delicately presses something into her hand. "Check it out,"

Ellie's beloved Game Boy rests peacefully in her palm. Not a scratch on it – besides, of course, the ones that already previously existed from it slipping from her grip numerous times. She grins down at the device.

Equipping her backpack, Ellie watches her brother pull something out of the depths of his own bag. "Awesome!" he cheers, smiling. There are two orange gun-looking objects. They are flare guns. Ellie knows because John taught her the mechanics of one in case she was to ever be in a dire situation with no motel room or car in sight. They could locate her if she shot it towards the sky. "Never leave home without it, right?"

"Flare guns," Sam observes, light crossing over his face. "Those will work."

Once Tommy is extracted from the wendigo's death chamber, Ben and Haley support his weight as everyone moves towards the exit. Ellie's ears pick up on the distinct growling again. All her cells stand up on end. The monster must have realized they infiltrated its home to take their friends back. Her brothers have an unspoken plan as usual. She looks at them in bewilderment, trying to decode the two men.

When Dean is ready, he addresses the party, "Alright, listen up; stay here with Sam. He's gonna get you out of here."

"What about you?" Ellie jumps to ask. Dean is injured. He heaved for a step or two after Sam assisted him to stand. Now he is slouched over with one hand resting on his ribs. He must be aching, and Ellie does not want him getting taken away again.

Dean presses his knuckles to hers and winks in response. He turns, flare gun in hand, and hobbles down the corridor. Sam doesn't stop him. When Dean turns the corner Ellie can hear him shouting at the wendigo about him being dinner, or something. This plan is stupid.

Sam rushes them in the direction of the exit. They stop dead in their tracks at the low rumbles vibrating through the tunnel. Ellie notices that Tommy does not look too good. His head hangs low, so his hair covers most of his features. He gurgles at the ground.

"Get out of here." orders Sam. His face changes when Haley opens her mouth in a breath. " _Go!"_

Hesitantly at first, Haley and Ben maneuver around Sam before breaking into a brisk walk. Ellie holds her ground. The soles of her shoes melt into the damp dirt and she adjusts the weight of her backpack in a nervous gesture. She bites down on her lip once Sam turns his attention her way. She shakes her head rapidly to fling away tears. "No – "

"I'm not arguing with you – "

She is not having it. Sam is finally starting to act like a shadow of the person Ellie remembered. He is coming up for air, regaining consciousness. She is not losing that. Again.

 _"I'm not leaving you!"_ screams Ellie, stomping her foot down hard enough that it makes a _squelch_ sound.

As if on cue, the wendigo screeches back. Sam reacts in a flash and smothers his little sister flat against the wall. She cries into the stone and whispers _sorry_ until it loses all meaning. Sam hushes her. Ellie did not mean to mess up and attract the monster. She just knows what it means – splitting up. Her brothers don't think she does _but_ _she_ _does._ All her energy flew out the window from her outburst. Her muscles pulsate.

The leaking cave drips onto Ellie's hair. Her brother is as still as the dead and taking shallow breaths. She tries to copy him to be as lifeless as she can. She thinks about what it is like to be a rock plastered on the sides of the tunnel.

Ellie squeezes her eyes shut. The wendigo is near. The chirps the creature is producing are in octaves she has never heard before. When she feels ghosts of puffs of air brushing over her face, she allows herself to see again. Ellie's voice breaks in two as she screams.

Sam yanks his sister backwards using the handle on her backpack. He sends his only flare skittering across the glistening rocks in the process. The monster hops and snarls to avoid its poison. At this point Sam is in a frenzy. Ellie does not believe her feet touch the ground when her brother acquires her hand in a bone crushing grip and sprints down the way the rest of the group were sent – minus Dean.

It does not even take a minute to reach the others. Some words are exchanged before they are moving again. The nine-year-old is in a daze during the interaction because she is still trying to process what she saw. It was . . . _something._

The five of them are thrown off course. The wendigo is hunting them down. Sam diverts direction and dives into a side tunnel in hopes to lose the monster. However, instead of being greeted with the welcoming outside light at the end of the trail, there is only another dark wall. They are trapped. Ellie can hear the wendigo ripping up the cave to find them. She is breathing so fast and hard she worries her heart will fall out of her dry mouth.

When the monster locates its prey, Sam herds everyone behind his larger body and spreads his arms out. Ellie hides in the space at the edge of his back and left outstretched arm. She tucks her fingers in his clothes, creating wrinkles in the fabric and feeling him breathe. The wendigo creeps closer and this new image clears the dust from the first sighting Ellie had of it. It is tall, much taller than Sam, and has limbs so elongated its arms almost touch the ground. The thing is paler than any human and splotched in blood and mud. Ellie begins trembling because the creature is so alien it is uncomfortable. It is ugly.

The wendigo roars and shakes the ground it walks on. It has so many teeth; rows and rows of them.

" _Hey!"_ In the entranceway stands no other than Dean Winchester. Ellie's heart soars. He has his flare gun aimed at the monster when it twists to confront him. "Eat this!"

The sparkling flare embeds into the wendigo's stomach. It throws its head back and emits something that can only be described as every animal at once. Ellie's ears only catch a cheetah before she is forced to stuff her fingers into them because it is too much. The wendigo begins melting and sizzling as it burns. Flailing around, the flames cause boils to rise from inside the monster until they burst. The creature disintegrates into the dirt, the fire lapping at its body before everything disappears like a switch was flipped.

Ellie is convinced that everything they hunt dies disturbingly.

When Ellie unclogs her ears there is a dull buzz. She looks at her eldest brother. Her forever hero.

Dean grins, taking some pride in his work, "Not bad, huh?"

Her brother is definitely Batman. How lucky is she?

* * *

 _November 11, 2005_

 _Lost Creek, Colorado_

Ellie stares down at her shoes caked in crusty mud. She did not realize they were that gross.

Her legs dangle out of the open back of an ambulance. It is nightfall but she is not scared this time. Ellie doesn't like ambulances; it reminds her too much of _that night,_ of _before._

The ranger station is bathed in blue and red with tints of white from Lost Creek's police and paramedics being at the scene. Sam called the police as soon as they crawled out of the woods and had a bar of service. The story they give the cops is that they were attacked by a huge grizzly while camping. It is believable, considering the picture inside the ranger station with the gigantic bear. Ellie wishes it were the case.

The paramedics – a man and woman – are nice. They clean and bandage up her cuts. The man cracks jokes periodically, trying to make Ellie feel the same way she does when her family cares for her. The other paramedic, the woman, drapes a soft and warm blanket over her shoulders. She talks about how she has a daughter back home about Ellie's age. Ellie pulls the blanket so the material is wrapped more firmly around her and breathes it in. It feels like a warm hug.

Once she is cleared, Ellie is lifted and placed on the pavement softly. She thanks them; more people she will probably never see again.

Ellie weaves around a police car to get to her destination: the Impala. Her brothers are leaning against the hood. When she approaches Haley is pulling Dean into a hug.

"I don't know how to thank you . . ." she says when she breaks out of the embrace. Dean is littered in bandages. He doesn't reply. Ellie climbs onto the hood of their car and weasels her way to sit in between her older brothers. She settles back into her blanket.

Tommy is being wheeled into an ambulance beside Baby as Ben onlooks. Haley changes her course of action and makes eye contact with the nine-year-old.

"Your brothers are good men," she confirms, water behind her eyes, "You're in good hands."

Ellie nods in response because _yes, of course._ Haley smiles solemnly. "I hope you find your father." This is directed at all of them. _John._ As bad as it sounds, Ellie had almost forgotten why they are out here in the first place due to everything that had happened.

Haley thanks Sam before wrapping an arm across Ben's shoulders, guiding him. They both slink into the ambulance to join Tommy. Paramedics shut the doors and Ellie can no longer see her camping buddies. The ambulance squawks as it pulls away, gravel crying under the weight of its tires.

"I don't want to go camping again." Ellie declares, quietly. She does not know how she could have ever been excited. She'll take a boring motel room or the backseat of Baby any day.

"You and me both." Dean adds, sighing. "Man, I hate camping."

Sam agrees, "Me too." At least they are all on the same page.

Car doors swing closed and engines cough to life. Law enforcement is packing up for the day. Ellie yawns. She blinks at her glassy eyes. Her hands brace on the Impala, leaving smudgy fingerprints on the raven colored paint. The blanket slinks down her shoulders.

Dean stares longingly yet sadly at something she cannot see. It is an unusual sight for Ellie. His voice wavers into the night, "You guys know we're gonna find Dad, right?"

Ellie narrows her eyes at him. She is confused. This whole time Dean's faith in Dad has been a given.

"Yeah, I know," acknowledges Sam. He speaks as if he is in the headspace of something that happened before Ellie's time. Her wires are all crossed. There is so much she doesn't know. "But in the meantime . . ." A grin crawls up his lips. _"I'm driving."_

Dean closes his eyes. He throws the keys over Ellie's head to Sam.

There is an abundance of things for Ellie to think about when she wiggles into the backseat of Baby. So much so that she only gets to unlace her muddy sneakers and kick them into the footwell before she discovers her brain is too tired to process anything else.

* * *

 **New chapter hopefully at some point this year. lmao.**


End file.
